


Every Day I Write The Book

by Tess_DiCorsi



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-05 05:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tess_DiCorsi/pseuds/Tess_DiCorsi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Midseason five.  Deeks alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Two or Three Editions

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: Not mine.

**1.** "I'm a man with a mission  
in two or three editions.  
And I'm giving you a longing look  
Every day I write the book." - Elvis Costello

 

Sent December 12, 2013 at 9:30AM PST  
TO: deeks8523 at lapd . lacity . org  
FM: nathan . getz at ncis. navy . mil  
Subject: Sunday the 22nd

Have tix for Sunday's Clippers game against the T-Wolves. Was supposed to go with Rose but her Mom is having knee surgery next week so she'll be with her in Atlanta. Rose does not want to subject me to her post-op Mom. Or pre-op Mom, to the truthful. Since I'm still going to the game and you're my one friend who actually loves the Clippers (as opposed to bandwagon fans that have been there lately), I'm offering you the extra seat. They're great seats and freebies from, well, a high ranking official from this task force I'm on lately.

Hope you're doing well. Was glad to hear you're back in the field.

Sent December 12, 2013 at 4:17PM PST  
TO: nathan . getz at ncis. navy . mil  
FM: deeks8523 at lapd . lacity . org  
Subject: RE: Sunday the 22nd

Hey Nate,

While I'm always up for good seats for the Clips, especially free good seats, I'd ask two favors. First, no head shrinking at the game and second, please don't introduce me at your back-up boo. If that's OK with you, I'm in. I'll even pick up dinner after the game. Maybe the Water Grill?

High ranking official from a task force with access to great seats, hmmmm...name wouldn't rhyme with Oarak Bobama would it? Thanks for thinking about me. Things are what they are here, catching bad guys and looking awesome doing it. Hope the task force is more fun than it sounds.

Sent December 13, 2013 at 8:54AM PST  
TO: deeks8523 at lapd . lacity . org  
FM: nathan . getz at ncis. navy . mil  
Subject: RE: RE: Sunday the 22nd

Definitely the Water Grill. Mmmm...fish. Definitely not Oarak Bobama.

No head shrinking at the game, no introducing you as my plus one (original or back-up). I'll have the ticket sent to you via the Mission's courier drop. See you a week from Sunday. Say hi to everyone for me.

x-x-x

Deeks looked at the seat location and was still stunned. Maybe President Obama didn't get Nate the seats but Section 101, fourth row and an aisle seat - winning. Not winning - the Clippers. Nate was terrific company and had the most interesting way of stringing words together to not quite swear but still express his extreme annoyance with the team.

They left the game and Deeks drove them to the Water Grill - Nate took the subway to the Staples Center. Deeks recapped NCIS's last trip to the subway, including Callen and Sam on the tracks. Nate, who did a year of post-grad work at the VA Hospital on 23rd Street in New York, told Deeks he never even gets near the edge of the platform to see if the train is coming. "It's not like the train arrives any faster if you do."

Nate made reservations, which got them a booth in back and seated long before the throng of unhappy and reservation-less Clipper fans arrived. That and Deeks knew the hostess from a short undercover job two years before NCIS became something more than another law enforcement acronym. The waiter dropped off the menus and promised to return.

"I was hoping Doc would make them tougher," Deeks told Nate, bemoaning the state of his basketball team.

"Give him time. It's tough for a guy to take over a team and get rid of the stench of decades of losing. Remember, Donald Sterling still owns the team."

"Last few years have been better," Deeks conceded. "But all I want is a parade like the Lakers get, an overpriced championship hat and tee-shirt."

"Cubs fans have waited over one hundred years."

"Yeah, well, they can keep that record. One parade, one big party for the team and some swag – that's all I'm asking." Deeks said as the waiter came by for their order. After deciding to split a plate of fish tacos as an appetizer, Nate ordered the Mahi Mahi with a beer while Deeks, who was driving, got the Chilean sea bass and a near-beer. The waiter complimented them on their order before leaving. "Just once, I'd like the waiter to say 'You blew it man, you should have ordered the swordfish," Deeks joked.

"Or the Nelson Muntz 'ha-ha' laugh," Nate added with a smile. "How's it going with Nell?"

"She's smart, she laughs occasionally at my jokes and doesn't try to make bad ones of her own. All and all, not bad. I like Nell, we're good. In a lot of ways we started at the office around the same time so she's not talking about events or cases I missed before I was there."

"Have you heard from Kensi?"

"She's officially on a classified, black operations mission that is well above both my pay grade and my security clearance. How could I have contact with her?"" Deeks decided to take this conversation carefully. He knew more about Kensi's assignment than any of them thought. While Hetty told him to keep the call from Kensi quiet, and he would, he wouldn't mind showing off his detective skills. Remind someone that he was more than just Officer Joe Friday hanging out with the feds.

"That's not an answer," Nate noted.

Deeks chuckled. "If the shrink thing isn't working for you, law school could be an option."

"Also, not an answer."

"Every day I don't hear about her from Hetty is a day I'm sure she's safe and OK. If it went south, someone would tell me."

"Do you know where she is?"

"Do you?" Deeks asked.

"Are you going to keep answering with some misdirection?"

Deeks thought about his answer. Which in some ways was an answer.

"You know where she is, don't you?"

"Her exact location? Right now? No."

"But you know."

"Off the record?"

"Your secret is safe with me."

"Well, when nobody would tell me anything, I started making of pest of myself. Figured I'd get an answer from someone who just wanted me to go away."

"Did it work?"

"Not with the people I was pestering. I had a strange conversation with Hetty which caught a lot of people's attention. I used the pest and pity cards to my advantage."

Nate smiled. "You played them?"

"Not played. But there are aspects of the liaison position that nobody knows about except me. For example, the 'Can I ask you a favor, man, just between you and me' part"

"You collect favors?"

"Playing people, collecting favors, why are you choosing such ugly words for how I deal with my co-workers, Nate?" Deeks faux-chided before adopting several voices. "Hi, Detective Deeks, this is Willa in Wardrobe. I totally understand if you can't help but my son was pulled over for doing 45 in a 15 mph zone. He's willing to pay the ticket but can you call someone about the points? I'll owe you, especially if you don't mention this to Hetty." Voice change. "Hey, Deeks, this is Patty in Purchasing, I know we're not supposed to do this but I woke up this morning with a boot on my car, can you help out? I'll pay back the favor, I swear." Voice change. "Hey man, it's Aaron from accounting. My neighbor is having parties until 4AM every night. Can you talk to him? I'll do your taxes or something. I can make your expense reports sing, Hetty would love it." Voice change. "Detective, this is Eric's pal Ollie in Ops. I know there are a lot of ex-cops working Staples Center security, One Direction is playing there this week and my 12-year old would love to see them. If you can get us in, I'll owe you forever."

"You called in a favor."

"Didn't have to. Three different people reassured me Kensi was fine while dropping little pieces of information that I was able put together. And if you tell that to Hetty or Callen or Nell or anyone else, I'll deny that to the end. I'm a highly trained undercover operative. I could probably pull that off."

Nate smiled. "I believe you could. But I'm not talking to Hetty, Callen or Nell. I'm talking to you, Deeks. Just you"

"Then I should warn you about my new project."

"Uh oh."

"I told Nell I'm going to figure out how you two know each other."

"She still hasn't told you?" Nate smiled.

"No, and I expect you to be equally closed-mouthed. But I'm a detective, I detect." Deeks told him as the waiter returned with fish tacos, beer and near-beer. "Since you're both scary smart and you know scary smart people who do scary smart things, that's going to be my first avenue of investigation. Mensa meetings or something."

"You're a smart man. I didn't meet you until your NCIS psych eval in April 2010."

"That was a psych eval?" Deeks joked as he took a bite out of his taco. "And here I thought you were just really interested in me."

"I am. Actually, that's why I wanted to talk to you tonight."

Deeks put his taco down on his plate and took a sip of his near-beer. Only semi-awful, he thought. "I thought you promised no head shrinking tonight."

"Actually, if you remember the e-mail, counselor, I promised no head shrinking at the game," Nate put his hand up before Deeks could object. "But no head shrinking today."

"Hetty arrange this?" Now the great seats made sense to Deeks.

"No. No Hetty involvement at all. As I told you when we spoke on the beach a few months ago, I don't share Hetty's agenda when it comes to you. She has hers and that is to put in place the best team possible. My agenda is having the people on the team in the best place possible."

Deeks thought Hetty's agenda lately included taking away all the things that put him in the best place possible but he kept that belief to himself. "So if Hetty didn't arrange this..."

"I did. The tickets really were a gift from the new SecNav's Director of Mental Health Issues. And I was actually going to the game with Rose until her Mom tore up her knee. But this gave me a chance to talk to you in a more informal setting instead of meeting you at the boat shed after the first of the year," Nate explained before finishing his taco. Washing it down with his beer, he continued. "I'm a member of a joint military mental health task force about the use of coercive tactics against members of the military in the global war on terror."

"As it has been pointed out time and time again, I'm not military," Deeks said, working hard to keep his growing annoyance out of his voice.

"No, you're not. You're barely a civilian, though. You're a specialist."

"Okay." Deeks was regretting the near-beer. Some Grey Goose, maybe a lot of Grey Goose, and a cab home may have been a better plan, especially if he knew he was going under the microscope.

"You work with military personnel because you're a top flight operative, a stateside version of a military contractor in some ways. Your long undercover operations show a discipline and skill those pointing out you're not career military should envy."

"Most of them can't get past the hair."

"Sam didn't for a long time," Nate said before the server removed their appetizer plates. "His reaction to you after help arrived in the garage was just another example of that."

"He was worried about his wife," Deeks told him. "Wait, how do you know about that?"

"I read all the after-action reports. Interviewed some of the people present."

"Great," Deeks sighed. "Is this my interview? Do I need my union rep or a lawyer?"

"You are a lawyer."

"And I don't have a fool for a client."

"I'm not questioning you. I'm telling you about my work," Nate said. "I spoke to the EMTs and the members of the rescue team who didn't know Quinn was Sam's wife. They also didn't know the extent of Sam's injuries but they all saw yours and several were troubled by his reaction."

"As long as the EMTs got me out of there, Sam could have reacted anyway he wanted. I wanted to get out of that chair." And nobody seemed to understand that, he continued to himself.

"Kensi was there."

Speaking of someone who didn't seem to understand just how much he wanted out of that chair. "Yes, she was. Both times."

"So it didn't bother you Sam had a harsh reaction and had it in front of a group of other law enforcement and medical professionals? In front of Kensi?"

"I was finally being allowed out of that chair. They were getting me medical attention. I told Sam the truth and then I didn't give a damn what anyone thought. I did my part. I held up my end. And he was helpful in the E.R.," Deeks explained.

"Finally?"

"Not finally. I was in a bad place and Sam was good to me right off in the E.R."

Nate shook his head. "No, you said you were finally being allowed out of the chair. Finally and allowed are telling words in that statement."

"Kensi and Granger found us. They told us what we needed to do to get Michelle back in with Sidorov. We did what we were told to do and then they took Sam and me to the hospital."

"That's a rather dispassionate recounting of the situation."

"Kensi and Granger knew where we were which made a big difference. The plan was to have Michelle do her thing and to get us out of there. That's what happened."

"So you don't think Sam, and I going to use one of the words of a person there, humiliated you in front of the others."

"I was covered in my own blood, spit and if we're being honest here about body fluids, tears and a little bit of piss. I got the crap beat out of me back at Sidorov's house. I lost my gun and had my teeth drilled by a psycho. Add in the lovely chlorine smell in my clothes and the fact that I caused a scene in the E.R. - Sam freaking out over his wife was the least humiliating part of the day," Deeks answered him somewhat disgusted. "Aren't you glad we're going to eat soon?" This was not his idea of dinner talk.

"What about his comments in the park? About your character, your appearance."

"Nate, someone on the team needs to look like a civilian. Sam could hardly pass as homeless or a junkie. That's why I'm there. Besides, it wasn't anything they hadn't heard before from Sam."

"But you rarely defend yourself and certainly not like that."

"You heard?" Deeks was surprised.

"I got the recordings of everything that went into that day. Your time with Sam and Michelle in the park. What happened when you were found the first time, what happened when you were taken to the hospital after Michelle's cover was re-established, Ty showed up with your weapon and encouraged you to rejoin Sam and Kensi in the field – studied it all. The mental health task force asked me to write a chapter for a manual they're putting together. It has sort of grown."

"Two chapters? Am I footnote worthy?"

"The operation has turned into a full case study. You're the heart of a treatise."

"Oh, can I get an autographed copy?" Deeks teased, hoping it would mask how he felt about this bit of news. "To Marty, Without you, none of this would be possible. Your friend in Freud, Nate."

Nate pulled a silver thumb drive out of his pocket and handed it to Deeks. "You're not happy."

"Never been a lab rat before. Not sure I like it." Deeks looked at the thumb drive. "Do I get to comment on this?"

"That's why I gave it to you. I'm interested in any constructive comments you may have."

"Happy I'm allowed to have an opinion," he muttered as he tucked the drive in his back pocket.

"Again with allowed," Nate mused. "Hetty told me she's worried about you."

"Hetty needs a hobby. I'm a little tired of her circling like a traffic helicopter over a car wreck she thinks my life is. Last time I checked, I can make my own decisions. I have been for fifteen years, maybe twenty-five."

"The motorcycle?"

"Among other things."

"Kensi?"

"Among other things," he said more to himself as their food arrived.

"Hetty told me the motorcycle is actually making you some money," Nate said as the server left the table.

"Yes, she pimped it out to a movie Ron Howard is making. I'm getting forty grand when the production end is over. She also has something lined up for some two-day long modeling shoot for Vanity Fair for five large and possibly a movie with the guy who is Thor down the road. I could have some sweet bank by next summer. Hetty was good enough to make sure the checks for the Ron Howard movie and the magazine are sent next month so I can prepare for the tax implications. All tied up in a bow for helpless little me."

"And you're angry about that."

"I don't do angry, Nate. Angry got my old man six years as a guest of the state of California. Besides, I'm being paid to be screwed out of something that's mine so what's the difference? It's not like I have any say."

"So pimping..."

"...is an appropriate term," Deeks told Nate. "I'm just wondering when I get control of my life back."

"Excuse me," Nate seemed confused.

"Well, in some ways, since I was strapped to that chair in the garage, everyone's got plans for me. Some good, some really bad but I don't have a say in a single one of them."

"Hetty never liked motorcycles."

"Yet she has no issue with sending me out on one if it helps clear a case. If I want to have something for me, something fun, well, then that's dangerous since I can't be trusted not to kill myself doing something that isn't work. And of course Kensi has one because she's, well, Kensi and can be trusted to make adult decisions. I'm just some man-child who is told what to do and has to be protected from himself."

"I told her I thought taking the motorcycle away from you was a mistake."

"Hetty doesn't make mistakes," Deeks shoveled some of his fish into his mouth. "She makes decisions in the best interest of the team and the case."

"Not your best interests."

"Off the record and between you and me," Deeks said.

"Of course," Nate said sincerely.

"If anyone gave a damn about my best interests, maybe Kensi would have cut me loose and gotten me to the hospital when she first found me in Sidorov's garage."

"That was a mistake. Hetty should not have sent Kensi in to deal with you."

"You think?"

"Are you angry at her for doing that?"

"I'd ask which her you're talking about but I'm not angry with either of them. I'm not angry that Hetty wanted me to stay there. I'm not angry that Kensi was the messenger and did what she was told. I'm not angry that Kensi left me in the hospital to finish Hetty's assignment. I'm not angry that Kensi isn't here and that Hetty sent her away. It doesn't change what happened in the past and doesn't change where anyone is right now. So no, still not angry."

"The urgency of Sidorov having the nukes..."

"Bullshit. When Sam was locked up as Quinn's boyfriend a few months before my time with Isaak and his drill, someone had to tell Sam he was staying in jail while Michelle met with Sidorov. Hetty went herself because she didn't want Sam to be angry, unhappy or whatever with Callen. At the time, Sam was a little annoyed but perfectly healthy. Healthy enough to get himself out of jail and save Michelle."

"Sounds like something Hetty would do for their partnership."

"For their partnership, you bet. For me, however, well I was knocked around pretty good before I was brought to a garage. I was strapped to a chair and well, you know what happened happened. So unlike a healthy Sam Hanna back in March, I'm in that place when Hetty sends Kensi in to tell me I'm staying tied to that chair because..."

"If you read what I gave you, one of my conclusions was that sending Kensi in to deal with you was one of the biggest mistakes of the entire operation."

"Sidorov's dead. They got the nukes. Janvier is rotting in a cell in ADX Florence. I'm sure nobody is looking for what went wrong. Especially since I eventually returned to work and I have fabulous new teeth that I don't ever have to worry about getting cavities or needing root canals or being tortured by psychos with drills ever again."

"Every operation is reviewed for what could be improved. A positive outcome..."

"...is not the sign of a successful plan," Deeks finished Nate's thought. "My LAPD boss is former military intelligence. I've heard it before. And to tell you the truth, 'severe dental trauma' and weeks of insomnia aren't really positive outcomes."

Nate nodded his head, taking a bite of his meal. "So if you're not angry, what are you?"

Deeks was surprised by the question. "Working things through, I guess."

"What are you working through?"

"All still confidential?"

"I told you, Hetty's agenda isn't mine. You want to talk, you need to talk, I want to listen. It stays between you and me. And between you and me, you've needed someone to talk to for a long time. Talk."

Deeks put his fork down and sighed. "I'm thinking about my future. What I want. What I want to do," Who I want to do it with, he kept to himself.

"Are you not happy with your current assignment?"

"Outside of working part-time for a catering company from when I was sixteen until I passed the bar, this is the longest time I spent in one job, assignment, whatever."

"A case of wanderlust, perhaps?"

"Maybe it's a case of trying to figure out what the hell I'm doing," Deeks said as he picked up his fork and started picking at what was left of his dinner.

"How does Kensi not being around impact you?"

"Not helpful in some ways. Helpful in others. Not helpful in that when you work with someone for a long time, you fall into rhythms. Kensi was my first full-time partner, really, ever. I had what the department technically considered partners but they were always the handler and I was undercover boy." Deeks quickly added, "Nell isn't the problem. I like working with her, she's not the issue."

"What is?"

"Just thinking maybe it is time to move on. Maybe I'm with NCIS because I like working with Kensi and Callen and Sam. Maybe if they were all out of the picture, maybe if the team didn't gel like it did when I got there, I'd be back at LAPD now. There are three other liaison officers at LAPD. I'm the only one embedded with his agency. Everyone else works out of the Police Administration Building. Maybe I'm getting too comfortable and it's time to try other things."

"Do you want to try other things?"

"Not sure. Maybe I should finally learn how to master something before I try something new. I was a lawyer for a while, was an undercover cop for a while, now I'm this. Someone once said I was a jack of all trades, master of none."

"So you're torn."

Deeks leaned back in the booth. "I guess I'm trying to figure out why I'm still doing this. Is this the rest of my career? Do I want to go back to the LAPD? Do I take up Hetty's long ago offer to join NCIS"

"Do you?"

"Been thinking about it."

"And..."

"And I don't know. I wasn't crazy about the assignment I had before I got strapped to that chair."

"Granger was running that case, wasn't he?"

"Yeah. I had to testify at Monica Davis's sentencing hearing week before last. She was my mark with Granger was acting as my handler. I like undercover work. I like setting up someone like what Michelle was doing with Sidorov. Bad people doing bad things deserve whatever play we run. Monica was a hostess at a club. I got friendly with her so I could access her boss' computers and be there, hanging around, when the boss met with people."

"You didn't make her steal the diamonds. You didn't make her..."

"Max did. Max is a bad guy who does bad things and she was trying to keep up."

"I read the sentencing report. She's probably only doing the six months in Level I lock-up at CIW because of what you wrote in your pre-sentencing statement and what you told the judge."

"And if she never met Max, she's probably flirting with some rich guy and oh yeah, not going to jail and recovering from a gunshot wound. That's the part of the job I'm...I don't know." Deeks looked at his food and wondered where it all went. He cleaned his plate and didn't the taste of remember any of it.

"You also were lying to Kensi while working Monica Davis."

"Yeah, that wasn't great. The whole case stunk and for the record, Granger isn't a barrel of laughs to work for, either and he's with Kensi now on her super-secret assignment."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes. That wasn't even a favor from someone. Got the heads up from someone outside of NCIS." Bates told him when he explained that Kensi was off on assignment. Seems Army Intelligence and the CIA work well together and gossip like teenagers. "I figure a few more weeks with Assistant Director Sunny Personality and she'll miss my jokes."

"She's going to miss you."

Deeks shook his head. "She's too busy saving the world," Deeks told him.

"Did you figure it out?" Nate asked, looking genuinely curious as he pushed his plate away.

"Figure what out?"

"What made your partnership different? What makes what you and Kensi have special, unique?"

"Sorta."

"Sorta?"

Deeks knew Nate knew the answer to his question. Nate knew on the beach. But Deeks also knew he was half insane at that point because he wasn't sleeping. Any conversation he'd have about Kensi that day would not be what Nate needed to hear. And now, well, Deeks listened to what he told Nate and was more sure than ever he was going back to LAPD. Not today, not next week but if he couldn't work with Kensi, if it was going to kill whatever they have or could have, whatever it was, if he wasn't going to be allowed to be himself and live his life, he was done with NCIS. He might be done anyway. Saying it out loud to Hetty earlier that month opened the door.

"Marty?"

"Marty," he laughed at the use of his first name. "What makes my relationship with Kensi unique, special, whatever," he mused. "Being strapped in that chair, it was the worst thing that ever happened to me. Shitty childhood, living in my car for half a semester in college, spending 83-days undercover as a child molester - all better. By a lot. I wanted to die. It had to be better than where I was. I gave Sam and Michelle everything I had to keep her safe so I had nothing left. I was done. And I was strapped to that goddamn chair, marinating in this mix of pain and blood and trying to forget what's left of the inside of my mouth when Kensi came to me. I thought I was safe. I thought I was getting out of there and it was over. But no. Kensi asked me to stay there. And I did. I wouldn't have done that for Callen or Hetty or Granger or you. Sorry. I wouldn't have done it for anyone but her. She asked and I did it for her. That's what makes our partnership unique. If she needs me, if she needs me to do something, I'll do it if she asks. Because if someone that amazing, that awesome has faith in me, trusts me, maybe I'm someone worthwhile."

Nate looked like he wanted to say something, even started once but changed course. Leaning in, he asked, "Are you worried that she may not see you that way?"

"I think she does. And if she doesn't, then I was wrong. Not the first time in my life, won't be the last."

"Then what?"

Deeks shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe work on becoming someone worthwhile."

The waiter stopped by to clear the table, asking if they wanted dessert. Deciding he deserved a treat, Deeks ordered the caramel bread pudding - it had a holiday sound to it - and a cup of decaf. Nate went with the key lime pie and a second beer.

"You just blew up a chapter of my monograph with what you said," Nate shook his head. "Sending Kensi in to talk to you..."

"No," Deeks shook his head. "It would be obscene to ask someone to do that to their partner. It was for us on some level. Kensi still has issues with it, with me. Wanting to protect me from what happened."

"I don't understand."

"Unique. It's what makes us special. How to deal with what happened can be your case study but honestly, how we deal with each other … do you want to do the shrink thing here?" Deeks saw Nate nod yes. "How many cop-lawyer-surfers with a talent for undercover work are teamed up with federal agents with a Type A to the extreme personality who have survived everything we have? There is nothing to learn about what happened between us in that garage. It's all part of the mix of what makes us work as partners."

"OK, but without reading what I wrote then, what would be your suggestion to the next agent or operative who found someone in your position that day?"

The waiter returned with their dessert and beverages. Once he was out of earshot, Deeks answered. "Unstrap the poor son of a bitch from the chair and get him medical attention. He's already done his fair share."

x-x-x

Dessert conversation turned to holiday plans including wondering what Kensi was doing. It was nice to talk to someone that didn't openly pity him every time he mentioned her name. Deeks invited Nate to work at the soup kitchen Tuesday night - an offer Nate was happy to accept. Nate wanted to pick up the check but Deeks considered it a payment for the tickets and the unplanned therapy session. Since Nate's Culver City condo was on his way home, Deeks dropped his fellow soup kitchen volunteer at his front door. Nate promised to return the favor Tuesday night.

Sitting at a red light, he saw the Office Depot a few miles from his place was still opened - "Opened Until Midnight For Your Holiday Needs!" Because who doesn't need an electric stapler at twenty to eleven on the Sunday before Christmas. Then he remembered he had about four sheets of blank paper in his apartment and was shaking his toner cartridge when he printed his "Hobbit" movie tickets last week. Since he planned on reading Nate's treatise Monday and having his notes ready on Tuesday night, a quick Office Depot visit was needed.

While the cashier feigned Christmas cheer with the best of them, 500 sheets of paper and a toner cartridge probably wasn't her idea of holiday needs. He threw in the snowman thumb drive to add to the festive feel to his otherwise sad purchases.

Once home, he loaded the toner, the paper and then Nate's masterwork. He took Monty for a quick walk to the corner while the printer did its thing. He returned with a relieved dog to over two hundred printed pages and a very cranky printer. Closing the file, he took Nate's thumb drive and locked it into his desk with his gun. Deeks took his just purchased holiday thumb drive and put it on the corner edge of his computer monitor. Finding a YouTube video of the old Yule Log from TV, he pulled out his phone and took a shot of the only Christmas decoration he had in his apartment.

He downloaded the snowman by the YouTube fire photo and another he had on the phone figuring he'd show them to Kensi when she got back. Maybe he'd take a picture of Nate at the soup kitchen too. He looked at the holiday thumb drive and smiled. Plugging it in, he copied the photos onto the little snowman drive and dated it. Closing the file program, he noticed his word processing program was still opened. What the hell, he thought as he started typing.

December 22, 2013

[img 02119]

[img 02130]

Hey Kens,

Merry Christmas three days early. I hope you liked the photos above. Monty and I decorated your place, as you can see. Unless you show up in the next thirty-six hours (and sorry, our luck just doesn't run that way so you'll be gone through Christmas), I'll keep the tree up until you come home. It is plastic, no fire worries. We can do Christmas when you get back. I'm not expecting much from Afghanistan. You coming back is my gift. I did get you something however. It's a surprise and under the tree. The other photo is the holidays here at Casa de Deeks. Well, I have some cards on top of the fireplace. Sam Hanna, you'll be happy to know, is anti-Christmas cards, especially ones with glitter. I feel a Martha Stewart glue gun and glitter project in my future for Sam's birthday.

You'll never guess what happened today. I became the star of one of Nate's psych term papers: "Marty Deeks as the Prisoner of Isaakaban". Nah, I can probably come up with a better title than that. Anyway, it seems Nate is turning "Deeks and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day" (not much better) last May into some sort of case study about "coercive tactics" impact of torture. I got the title! "The Effect of Dental X-Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Martygolds"

I don't mean to sound so jaded. Nate's a really good man and he's doing important work. I am going to read his Deeksertation (ha ha) and give him serious feedback.

God, I miss you. Talking to you on the phone, it just reminded me how much not talking to you every day hurts.

OK, enough whining.

Nate and I caught a Clippers game - they lost, of course, because they stink (not really) and I can't have nice things. He told me about his case study after the game. We had a nice talk, actually. Nate thinks I need someone to talk to. He's right. I do. But that someone is you. Everyone's being great, they all want me to know I can talk to them, hang with them, forget you're on the other side of the world with them. It's been fine hanging with Callen, Sam, Eric and Nell, who by the way laughs at my jokes so you're going to have to work on that when you come back to work.

When you come back to me.

Anyway, I want to talk to you. Since I can't, I think when I have something to say, I'll say it here. I got this great little thumb drive and really, in L.A. in December, who isn't thinking of snowmen?

I hope you're warm wherever you are. I hope they're treating you right. I know you're dazzling them with your all around awesomeness. You've dazzled me every day since we met.

This is getting depressing and morose with a glitter-like dusting of self-pity. If you were here you'd kick my ass for this. And I'd deserve it. Instead, I will sign off the first chapter of the Book of Marty this way - I miss talking to you. It's been one of my favorite things to do since we met.

Be safe, come home,  
Deeks, Test Subject

x-x-x

 **Postscript** :

Sent July 6, 2014 at 10:43PM PDT  
TO: henrietta . lange at ncis . navy . mil  
FM: deeks8523 at lapd . lacity . org  
Subject: How I'm Spending My Summer Vacation 1.0

Hey Hetty,

Hope you're enjoying your summer break. This is just a quick note to say thanks for so much for arranging the leasing of my motorcycle to all those photos shoots, film and television productions since last fall. After figuring out what the IRS needed and putting money aside so Monty and I can live a little more comfortably on a cop's pension, I decided to have some fun with a bit of the rest:

Deekscursion dot tumblr dot com

See you August 15th. I'll have photos, too.

Marty Deeks

Hetty stared at the e-mail. Deeks was evasive about his summer plans, "just hanging around" was his constant answer. She had Eric do a quick search of Deeks's credit card expenditures and the airlines before she shut the office down for six weeks - no plane tickets, no hotel reservations, nothing out of the ordinary for the Detective.

The web addressed worried her. Clicking on the address, a bare bones website opened. There was a locked video and a pop-up box that said "Password paid for this - two words, no spaces, no caps."

Hetty typed in "triumphbonneville" and the video started. "I Believe I Can Fly" graphic showed up over a helicopter taking off at the base of a mountain. There was a fade to a small group of adults standing at the top of a mountain in wingsuits. A quick cut changed it to a split screen with video from what looked to be a pair of helmet cams. Hetty only recognized one profile - Marty Deeks.

"Oh, Mr. Deeks," she said from her rented villa in Monaco.

Soon enough, the group jumped. The split screen provided a look of what Deeks saw as he glided through the air and what he looked like as he sailed through the clouds. It was beautiful, exhilarating and absolutely insane. A few minutes into the flight, Deeks and his fellow wingsuit jumpers opened their parachutes. The video switched to Deeks's point of view as he slowly made his way back to terra firma. There was a triumphant scream as he landed followed by some heartfelt laughter. Another cut in the video was from a professional camera on the ground, following Deeks's descent for the last fifty feet, the joy on his face as he landed and the celebratory scream when he landed as well as a website address for Oregon Wingsuit Leaps.

Before fading to black, a final graphic appeared:

Cost of Wingsuit/Parachute - $1,972.28  
Cost of Instruction and Practice Jumps - $6,200.00  
Cost of Mountain Jump - $1,000,00 (and cheap at twice the price)  
Having $15,827.72 in cash left over and five more weeks of adventures - Priceless.

To be continued...

"You cheeky bastard," Hetty chuckled without an ounce of malice.

-30-

Oh, the odious author's notes.

1\. This is likely a three-parter. There will not be weekly updates as is my wont. More monthly but finished before Kensi returns to Los Angeles. Probably part two sometime in mid-January and mid-February for part three.

2\. Type "Every Day I Write the Book - Ron Sexsmith & Elvis Costello" into youtube. Click on the video from "deerfried" - 5:30 in length. It is how this all started.

3\. Happy holidays. Thanks for reading. Thanks for all the fun I've had for the last year. I am so grateful for all the kind words and the feedback. Just amazed and overwhelmed by everyone's kindness.


	2. Your Compliments and Your Cutting Remarks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Since I'm always making things more complicated than they need to be, this chapter happens in January 2014. The postscript occurs in the summer of 2014.

**2.** "All your compliments and your cutting remarks  
Are captured here in my quotation marks  
I'm giving you a longing look  
Every day, every day, every day I write the book" - Elvis Costello

.  
Deeks was putting in some time on the speed bag when Hetty walked into the gym.

"Mr. Deeks, if you have a moment after you've showered."

Deeks stilled the bouncing bag with both hands. "Sure, can you give me five?"

"I can even give you ten, Detective," Hetty told him as she walked out.

Deeks wondered what he did now as he walked to the men's locker room to shower off his morning workout. After a quick shower, Deeks saw that neither Sam or Callen were at their desks. Taking that as an ominous sign, he pulled his phone out of his top desk drawer and made his way to Hetty's office. "You wanted to see me," he said. "Where's everyone?"

"Please sit down," Hetty pointed to the empty guest chair. "You'll be joining the others in Ops after we talk."

"I'm sure whatever I did, I have an explanation for it."

"Would you care to explain?"

"Explain what?"

"Whatever you think you did that warrants an explanation."

"I don't think I need to explain anything but since we're here..." Deeks put his hands out, "and nobody else is I'm assuming I've done something."

Hetty opened her top desk drawer and handed him two envelopes - one was from Universal Pictures, another from Vanity Fair. "These are for you. The production manager so liked the motorcycle that he's offered twice the rate paid for the Ron Howard production for a Wes Anderson film about a 1960's recluse being filmed in New Orleans."

"Glad the bike is seeing America," Deeks grumbled before saying to Hetty, "thank you for these."

"I had a rather interesting talk with Mr. Callen over the weekend."

"And?"

"He was looking for you Friday night."

"I had a couple of hang-ups from an unknown caller. Was that Callen? I didn't know it was Callen. He wasn't calling from his cellphone."

"His phone was not operating properly and he found a pay phone in a tire store. Do you usually not answer when you have calls from an unknown phone?" Hetty asked.

"I got a call from LAPD when I was leaving here Friday night. They needed someone to sit in a bar and watch the bartender, who is really Detective Angela Sanchez. She was coming to the end of a narcotics case she's been working for nearly eighteen months."

"So you were asked to back up Det. Sanchez."

"Yes. I don't know if you saw it in the Times but there were seventy gang members and drug dealers busted Friday night, Saturday morning in a major joint LAPD-DEA operation. Angela was a big part of that so Roger Bates wanted someone watching her. Nero Winston, the kingpin in all this, took a shine to Angela as failed actress turned bartender Maria Rivera. Angela held him off because Nero has a wife Sharon and two kids in University Hills, a mistress Jane Palmer and three kids in San Diego and a top female lieutenant slash madam named Christina Brown who he has a friends with benefits deal. Plus he was sleeping with a couple of the girls the Brown runs so he was easy enough to hold off. Problem is, we had Winston on tape saying that once this big deal that he didn't know was a set-up was over, he was going to take Angela as Maria to Calexico to celebrate whether she wanted to go or not and bring her into his little harem. Seems Winston's women all know and like each other." Deeks shrugged his shoulders. "Go figure."

"So you were there to keep an eye on Det. Sanchez."

"Winston doesn't always show up for his deals. He sometimes watches from a car nearby."

"Like Janvier."

"Exactly. Bates was worried if he somehow didn't get arrested at the deal site, he'd make a beeline to Angela and run. So I went to where Angela was working, sat at the end of the bar, watched Angela as I caught the end of the Heat-Nets game double overtime game and then the Lakers-Clips," he shook his head sadly. Seems whenever he watched the Clippers in public, there were no happy outcomes. "I got a call around midnight from Bates to get Angela out of there and take her to Bates's office. She left the bar to go to the ladies room, I left my bar stool to go to the men's room and we both walked out the back door and into a patrol car that was waiting for us."

"Mr. Callen was told that by Lieutenant Bates."

"So you knew where I was," Deeks wasn't sure where this was going but guessed it wasn't anything good.

"When he couldn't find you, he contacted Lt. Bates, who said you had an assignment and later e-mailed both your and Det. Sanchez's after-action reports to both Mr. Callen and to me."

"So we're good."

"About Friday, yes. Mr. Callen should have used his regular phone. He was also able to bring Miss Jones with him to a break-in at a company called D-Seven."

"The military contractors?"

"Yes. They were possibly involved in a plane crash..."

"When I was recovering. I read the reports before I came back. Why did Callen want me?"

"Mr. Hanna was unavailable due to a family illness."

"Is Michelle okay? The kids?" Deeks asked, genuinely concerned.

"Chicken pox. Michelle has the chicken pox. One of the children gave it to her."

"Oh no," Deeks didn't mean to smile but he did find some humor in someone as bad ass as Michelle slowed down a little by something he had when he was eight.

"So Mr. Callen knew where Mr. Hanna was this weekend but he was unaware that you were on assignment with the LAPD."

"I wouldn't call it being on assignment. I was watching out for Angela. She's played my wife, ex-wife or girlfriend on a couple cases in the past. I think I had a picture of her in my wallet as Sully's ex-wife a couple of years ago. Bates needed muscle, Ang asked for me."

"Are you and Det. Sanchez are close?"

"We're friendly. I do actually have a few friends on the force. I don't go to her kids' birthday parties or family barbecues but if she needs muscle on a case, I usually get the call."

Hetty pulled out a sheet of paper. "On December 27th, you put on your homeless garb and slept in Pershing Square."

"Didn't sleep. I was wide awake. There was a heist planned at the International Jewelry Center. The bad guys thought there would be less security since it was after Christmas. I was there in case the suspects left through a side door. There isn't much traffic on South Hill at night so any surveillance vehicle would have been noticed but a homeless guy wandering around - perfect lookout. It was all in my report. The office here was closed for the holidays so I offered to help if anyone wanted time off with their family."

"Anyone at LAPD," Hetty noted.

"Yes. The office here was closed."

"On January 4th, you were working the door of Rotica as a bouncer."

"Rotica is an LAPD front and everyone in plainclothes does a shift every few months. I got my first quarter required assignment out of the way. Again, the office here was closed." Deeks saw Hetty frowning. "I do work for LAPD," he reminded her.

"Our offices were closed to give you and the rest of the staff an opportunity to relax and rest. Instead, you took on several assignments for LAPD."

"I did the same thing last year. When we got back from the Van Buren, two friends wound up using the cabin I rented for the holiday so I worked undercover crowd control during the Hollywood New Year's Eve Pub Crawl and then security at the Rose Bowl. If it's missing from your list, and I did send you a report, I did that again this year. I even got high five'd from Magic Johnson as he left the Coliseum. That's really a high five, the man is tall," Deeks smiled at the memory. "I was told by you when the liaison position was offered to me," Deeks thought 'offered' was generous, "and I am told by Roger Bates all the time that my work for LAPD takes precedence over my work here."

"But you volunteered for some of these assignments."

"As I've done over the last few years. If I don't have Christmas plans, and I didn't have a single one this year after Christmas Eve, I tell Bates we're not that busy. If someone needs time with their family, I'm available." Deeks told her. "I've sent you report after report on all of these assignments, on all my LAPD assignments. I didn't send Friday's report because I got in, worked out and you wanted to see me before I could write it up."

Hetty nodded sagely, which made him more nervous. "Do you have any LAPD assignment this weekend?"

"None that I'm aware of."

"Please tell Lt. Bates that you'll be unavailable. Nate submitted his treatise on the impact of torture on rescue personnel. It has been well received. The SecNav and her Director of Mental Health Issues, a Dr. Rachel Cranston, would like to interview you after Nate presents his findings at a conference. Nate told the SecNav and Dr. Cranston that a conversation he had with you and your notes on his work were cogent."

"Do I need to fly to Washington?" Deeks did not want to fly to Washington in January. He saw those polar vortex temperatures on the news.

"No, the meeting is in San Diego. The SecNav and her family are going to be in town this upcoming weekend as her son looks at San Diego State as a college option. It seems he's a highly recruited high school soccer player. She's arranged for you to stay at the Grand Del Mar, where they're holding the conference," Hetty handed him an itinerary. "The hotel is dog friendly so Monty could join you. You'll be finished fairly early Saturday afternoon but the SecNav has arranged it so you can stay until Monday."

"That's nice of the SecNav," Deeks thought as yet another part of his life is being arranged for him - this time how he'll spend his holiday weekend. He was really beginning to miss his life as an adult, making his own arrangements, having his own plans. "Nate never sent me his final paper. Is it available online somewhere or can he e-mail me a copy?" Deeks though he'd have to hit the Office Max again for some paper.

Hetty opened a file folder on her desk. "You can have mine," she told him as she handed over her bound copy of the report. "Nate makes some interesting conclusions."

"Can't wait to see what he wound up writing," Deeks took the paper. He wondered what Hetty thought of Nate's work since the original paper called into question a number of her decisions. "Thanks. Do you need anything else?"

"No, you can join the others up in Ops," she told him as she looked at her watch. "The team should be getting an update from Agent Walters from Camp Pendleton on the Allen murder momentarily. I expect the paperwork for your assignment with Det. Sanchez by the end of the day."

"Done," Deeks held up the checks, "Thank you again for these."

Deeks about two steps away from Hetty's desk when he heard "Oh, Mr. Deeks?" Turning around, he waited for her to continue. "About six weeks ago, you offered to return to the LAPD if..."

"That was a mistake," Deeks interrupted. "I made a mistake."

"And why's that?" Hetty looked genuinely interested in his answer.

"I was still a little," he searched for the right word, "unsettled by Kensi's sudden departure and wasn't sure what my role would be with her gone. I've come to realize that you made an operational decision. There's nobody on this team I'd trust more on an assignment than Kensi. It was really selfish and incredibly self-involved for me to think she was gone for any other reason than Kensi being highly qualified, maybe the most qualified person here. Nobody knows that better than me. I saw it every day I worked with her."

"Very well," Hetty told him, obviously not getting the answer she wanted but not being able to find fault in his reply. Thank you law school. "And returning to the Department?"

"They didn't keep me after Friday night. I'm here now," Deeks said with a smile. Eric's whistle saved him from any further conversation about his future. And Deeks was fine with that. Hetty, less so, and Deeks found himself fine with that too.

x-x-x

Deeks deposited his checks at the Citibank cash machine two block from the La Brea Tar Pits before he and Nell sat in a black SUV for a stake out of Agent Walters murder suspect eye doctor's office. Seems his Lasik surgery didn't go well. Neither did his last encounter with Sgt. Thomas Allen, an interpreter for the Marines. They were there for less than thirty minutes when Eric called - the suspect was picked up by a state trooper on his way back to San Diego. Sam and Callen were going Pendelton while Agent Walters got the suspect from the SDPD.

Deeks wondered if Pendleton had a liaison officer with the SDPD but decided to keep that question to himself.

Back in the office, Nell returned to Ops while Deeks finished his paperwork from the Winston arrest for Hetty, sent Bates a note about being unavailable that weekend and looked at the Grand Del Mar online. Swanky. He did notice a winter special that made the third night for any stay free. So going down Friday and staying until Monday cost exactly the same as going down Friday and leaving Sunday.

Maybe he'd take Kensi there when she got back. If she ever got back.

Deeks turned down an offer to join Nell and Eric for dinner and the season premiere of "Archer" - Nell's favorite show. He had a date with Netflix and episodes fifteen through seventeen of "Arrow" planned for the night. Maybe he'd used the money from the bike to pay for archery lessons. Who was he kidding? He wouldn't be allowed near an arrow - he could cut himself and Hetty would be having none of that.

As he walked up to his apartment, he saw Red's door open and his niece piling up boxes. "Hey Linda," he called. "Do you need some help?"

"Hi Marty. Would you mind helping me bring these to the car? I shouldn't ask, you were so helpful New Year's night."

"Please, I want to help. I'm only sorry I had to tell you the bad news," Deeks told her as he opened his door and tossed his messenger bag on the couch. Monty was indifferent to his return and sudden departure. "I'm going to miss Red," Deeks told Linda as he locked his door and walked across the hall.

"We all are. I mean, you can't hope for more than 92 years with mostly good health, right? Especially since he liked his scotch and steaks."

"Why would you want to live for 92 years if you can't enjoy your scotch and steaks?" Deeks smiled as he lifted a surprising light box. "Are you the blue Navigator out-front?" Deeks asked.

"Yes."

"Got an idea. You open the SUV and I'll run the boxes down, you put 'em in."

"I can't ask you to do that."

"Red was really good to me over the summer. He sent Josefina over with food and other stuff every few days. It was a big help. It's the least I can do."

"Did they catch the drug dealers who did that to you? Red wasn't telling tales out of school or anything, just said you were beaten badly on the job. He was worried about you. He always figured if anyone caused a problem..."

"It's nice to have a cop on the floor. Not that you actually look like one. What are you, part of the Mod Squad or something?" Deeks imitated Red's growl. "And yeah, they got the bad guys," Deeks said noncommittally with his own voice as they walked to the SUV. "Last summer, whenever Red went to the senior center, he'd come back with crossword puzzles or find-a-word books so I'd keep my mind sharp while I was recovering. It was nice to have someone watching out for me."

"That's Red. Always fixing things. Cars, household appliances, people he liked."

"He was a great guy," Deeks smiled as they got to the SUV. "I'll be back."

Most of the boxes were light. There were eleven of them left, so two a trip and one for the final run out to the car. It didn't take ten minutes.

"I'm going to have these washed and donated to St. Vincent de Paul," Linda told him as they put the final box in the SUV. "He had to have ten packs of tube socks, unopened. Half-a-dozen packages of underwear and undershirts, too. I took him with Josefina to Westfield Mall every few weeks and he'd always buy socks and underwear," she smiled as she shook her head and slammed the SUV's back door closed. "Can I show you something Marty? I was going to leave you a note about it but this works out perfectly."

Deeks figured Linda was going to need help with something else. Instead of returning to Red's apartment the two walked to the pair of outdoor single car garages in the back of the building. "These are the owners," Deeks told her.

"I know. Red never wanted anyone to know but he owned the apartment building."

"He what?" Deeks was stunned.

"Yeah, Red never wanted anyone to know because he just wanted to live here and not hear people complain about the rent or fix broken sinks. The only thing he hated fixing was plumbing. He hired a management company for that."

"Red? Our Red? My nice little old man neighbor who complained about the Dodgers and was still angry the Rams left?"

"One and the same. He bought the building in bankruptcy court in the 1972, moved in. That's how he got that weird three bedroom set-up. He took the studio next door to his original apartment and just knocked down the walls."

"He told me he was a mechanic."

"He was," she said as she pulled out a piece of paper and punched in a code in the door's key pad. There was a beep and the automatic door lifted. Deeks was amazed by a wall of hand tools and several reinforced tables with significant power tools. Deeks didn't need to see the drills.

Linda walked to a floor to roof cage and opened it. "It's here, Marty," she waved him back.

Deeks walked to the door of the cage and saw it. And it was glorious. "Is that a 1947...

"1947 Indian Chopper," Linda was beaming as she answered.

"Steve McQueen owned one..."

"...And was a client of Red's."

"Steve McQueen was a client? Oh my God, Red Anderson. He's that Red Anderson?"

"Red's Open Road. He started working as a mechanic for a Cadillac dealer in Beverly Hills after the war..." Linda started

"But he wound up with his own place. Red Anderson, car guru to the stars."

"He helped Hollywood types find their dream cars, started collecting fancy cars and renting them out to movie companies."

"I'm learning a bit about that."

"Yeah, Red left a note saying you had a Triumph Bonneville."

"Yeah, the Steve McQueen edition. It's making me some money," Deeks moved closer to the bike. "Can I touch it?" The bike was black and in pristine condition. He pulled out his phone and took a picture. He wondered if a selfie with the bike would be more inappropriate than asking the mourning niece of his dead neighbor and friend to take a picture of him with the Indian.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Red spent his whole life making notes. He had a will and most of his personal collection is going to charity or being auction off for his grandkids but he wanted a few people offered things with the ability to say yes or no." She opened her handbag, pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to him.

Deeks read it out loud. "Marty across the hall. Show him the Indian in the garage cage. If he wants it, work out a payment plan for him. He's a cop so no interest since I always felt safer with him around. The bike's worth about $25,000. If he doesn't want it, auction it off. Oh, if he buys it, let him keep it in the garage, gratis. You don't leave the Indian on the street." Deeks looked at her, stunned. "I don't know what to say."

"We can set up some kind of payment plan but the bike is yours if you want to work something out. I can get it appraised to make sure Red's price is right but don't feel pressured and if you don't want it..."

"I want it. Oh do I want it. There's no problem with the money. I can have a teller's check for you by the end of the week."

Linda laughed. "You like it?"

"This," Deeks said as he pointed to the bike and just shook his head. "It's perfect Linda. Wow, Steve McQueen, Red Anderson. Why didn't he tell anyone he was that Red Anderson? Anyone who knows cars would know who he was."

"Not his style. It's why all the Hollywood types loved him. He liked the bikes, the cars, whatever and wanted to find the right one for everyone. Didn't give a damn about the celebrity lifestyle part. Made him genuine to guys like McQueen."

"He was genuine." Deeks left the cage.

"He was the best," Linda began to talk as she started to lock up. "My dad went out for a pack of smokes when I was six and never came back. Red was Mom's brother and the best thing that ever happened to us. He and Audrey took us in while Mom worked. When Audrey got sick, they could have asked us to leave but instead, we all took care of each other. When Audrey died, Red gave Mom their house and moved here. Worked on his company, put Ronnie, my brother, through medical school. Put me through law school. Put my Mom in a nice home when the Alzheimer's took her away. When I met my husband, I found the man who most reminded me of Red. Kind heart, good head, loves fun."

As they started back to her car, Deeks said, "I heard him talk about Audrey. He adored her."

"He did. My Mom always wanted him to find a nice girl and remarry. You know, a good woman looking for a good man. But he'd always say he had his Audrey and that was enough."

"She died young, right?" Deeks asked as they started walking to Linda's SUV.

"1972. She wasn't even fifty years old. I was twelve, Ronnie was sixteen. Ovarian cancer. They can't do much with that now, they sure as hell couldn't do anything about it then. I know that's why Ronnie is an oncologist."

"Such a tragedy."

"Red said his only regret in life was the time he spent building Red's Open Road. He said once they were making good money in the mid and late '60's, he should have taken Audrey to Paris or to Hawaii. In the late sixties, going to Hawaii was a big deal. He always thought he'd retire at fifty-five and they'd travel the world together. She never made fifty and he never left Los Angeles after she died," Linda started to tear up as they got to the car. "He told me he dreamed of seeing Hawaii with Audrey all the time. He hated waking up but knew she's be there another night when he slept."

"Wow, it's getting dusty here," Deeks said with a lump in his throat.

Linda was a little misty. too. "Well you know that better than anyone. You lost this summer getting better. I bet you're going for the gusto in everything you're doing now."

"The Indian is going to help with that." Oh, is the Indian going to help with that.

"I'm out of town after Thursday - bringing my kid back to college - if you want to drop the check off," she handed him her business card, "do it sometime next week. And we can still set up a payment plan, don't empty your savings account."

"Nope, got the money now so let's make this official. Are you off to Ann Arbor after that ridiculous cold they had last week?"

"Fortunately, it warmed up over the weekend. Did Red tell you Jimmy was at Michigan?"

He could have reminded Linda that she showed up in a Michigan sweatshirt and her husband a Michigan cap when he met them at the morgue but decided against it. "Red couldn't understand why any kid as smart as Jimmy would go someplace as cold as Ann Arbor."

"That's Red. He spent WWII with the Devil's Brigade fighting and making sure everything ran right. Said he got a lifetime's worth of cold there. He can't, couldn't, understand why anyone lives north of San Francisco. Ann Arbor might as well be the North Pole." They got to her Navigator. "I'm going to miss that man."

"Everyone here is too. Linda, thank you..."

Linda stopped him. "Marty, Red would have only offered the Indian to someone he liked, respected and would treat the bike right. Just by your reaction in the garage, that's you. I'll have all the paperwork when you drop off the check along with a key card for the garage. You take care of yourself and take care of our city!"

"Yes ma'am," Deeks said as she got into her car. Watching her drive off, Deeks was just delighted by his luck. Hetty just paid for the Indian. Maybe 2014 was going to be his year following the disaster that was 2013.

After taking Monty for a leisurely walk and finding the Lobsta Truck line to be manageable, Deeks and Monty were in for the night and in Deeks's case well-fed. Monty seemed less enamored with his dinner as Deeks was with his lobster roll and chowder.

Deeks downloaded the photo of the Indian and started his nightly Kensi update:

January 13, 2014

[img 02217]

Hey Kens,

What do you think of my gift from Hetty? She bought it for me and. It. Is. Awesome.

OK, she didn't buy it for me but she paid for it.

Yes, it is a 1947 Indian Chief Chopper and yes, it is the bike Steve McQueen rode. Remember I told you Red died New Year's Day? Well Red wasn't just my neighbor, he was Red Anderson, car broker to the stars. The Indian was his and he left a note asking his niece to see if I wanted to buy it. Hetty gave me the checks from the companies renting my bike so...

And I don't want to hear about PSTD and motorcycles. I rode my first motorcycle when I was fifteen. OK, it wasn't my motorcycle and technically I didn't have the owner's permission because he actually didn't know we borrowed it but that's not the point. The point, and I do have one, is that I've been riding motorcycles for years. It was one of the dozens of things Hetty wanted to know I could do once I was assigned to NCIS. No, I can fly a plane; no, I can't fence; no, I don't speak Farsi. But I know how to ride a motorcycle.

Besides, it wasn't even a month after I got back to your office when Hetty sent us into the desert on motorcycles. If Callen can fly planes for work and pleasure, Sam can go scuba diving and you, partner, can ride a motorcycle for fun, then so can I.

January 13, 2014 - five days after my 35th birthday and I'm declaring my independence. It is InDeekspendence Day! Cue the fireworks!

The day even started with some fun. I told you about the busts over the weekend. Well, it seems Hetty is unhappy I'm not living and breathing the NCIS life or that I have responsibilities to the LAPD. I told you I offered to go back but I've realized that was a mistake and I told her that. And that gave me a Hetty moment. Where I gave a perfectly acceptable answer but draped in enough mystery that she wasn't sure what to make of it. Ah, I can see why she does that to us all the time - it is fun giving a right answer that can be used to my advantage and not hers. The rush was a-maz-ing.

As our talk went on, I think Hetty wanted me to make some declaration that I wanted to stay at NCIS and I'm annoyed with my LAPD assignments. She's wrong. I love them. Especially with you gone. It kind of sucks without you around and it sucks less when I'm busy. I'm going to make sure I stay busy.

Speaking of sucks, I'm going to talk to the new SecNav and some mental health expert about Nate's Deeksertation. Hetty gave me a copy of it today and I'm going to read it before bed. I'm still thinking of a funny title for it - now I have to impress the SecNav. I was thinking Midday in the Garage of Bad and Evil is much better than Moby Deeks, which was my last thought.

The only nice part is I'm meeting with the SecNav and her head headshrinker at the Grand Del Mar in San Diego. I'm getting an all-expenses paid weekend out of it. Maybe we can do a weekend there when you get back. I mean if you get some time off. I'm working like a dog, Monty says hi by the way, so I'll have some time if you want to do something when you're back. I mean we don't have to do anything, just coming back is fine, but if you have some downtime, the Grand Del Mar, Vegas, Tahoe, Hawaii, hell a week at Shutters on the Beach as long as you're there is fine with me.

Well, I have 200 plus pages to read about last spring, because living it obviously wasn't enough, so ends tonight's little Marty Memoir.

Be safe, come home,  
Proud owner of a 1947 Indian Chief Chopper

He popped his little snowman thumb drive into the computer and saved the file by date. He only missed three days and last Friday was by an hour and forty-five minutes. He took a Dr. Brown's ginger ale from the fridge and made his way back to his couch. Nate's treatise and looking up some info on the Indian would push Ollie's time on the island on "Arrow" back another day.

x-x-x

January 14, 2014

Hey,

It's a little before 1AM and ...

I read Nate's report. You were bothered I wouldn't look at you. 'Agent K was troubled when she told the team leader that the victim stopped making eye contact.' Really? You kept me there with people who beat and tortured me. What was I supposed to do, thank you?

And I can't tell you how fabulous it is to be called a victim over and over. Nate took his report to the next level, it seems, doing a full scale analysis of you and me. I'm the victim. You're, well, you're half victim, half agent of Hetty's nuclear bomb recovery plan. She's the puppet master of the situation we were in. Of course, Hetty was making clear-headed decision sitting in her office, which has a far more comfortable chair than the one I was strapped to.

Every time that Russian psycho would pull the drill back I would think, oh God, Kensi's here. She's going to shoot this son of a bitch and cut me loose. But no. He'd just move to the next tooth. And the next one. And the one after that.

And then you were there. I'm sorry if I didn't greet you and Granger warmly and cheerfully accept my next assignment. I was too busy bleeding and being in God-awful pain. What a disappointment I must be. God, for a few minutes I thought you were a bad dream because I never thought you wouldn't help me.

Did it bother you that I was made to stay there even though I wanted out? Did it bother you not to get me help because my God, I could never do that to you. Or was it more distasteful that I was so weak and didn't live up to some standard you have. Was I supposed to be...

I can't. I just. I can't.

x-x-x

January 14, 2014, 8:10AM

Hey Kensi,

Well, that escalated quickly.*

I went surfing this morning. Needed to think, to calm down. A big part of me wants to delete last night's or I guess this morning's rant but I sort of promised myself I wouldn't change or delete anything I wrote to you on Sammy the Snowman here - I named him Sammy by the way - so I'm keeping it. And for the record, in the January 3rd note, I used there instead of their. I know the difference and Mrs. Rivera in fourth grade language arts would not be pleased.

I am not angry with you, Kensi. Please know that. I'm angry, though I loathe to admit it, but I'm not angry with you. I've worked really hard not to be angry. The old man was angry and my ultimate goal in life is not to be him.

But I am working through some anger, I guess. I'm angry about the situation we were in. Why you were sent to see me, why nobody had another plan that didn't include keeping me in the chair, why anyone thought keeping me, keeping Sam on those chairs was a good idea. I told Nate that the nukes were recovered and nobody is going to care what Hetty, Callen and the rest did to make it happen. Well, that might be true for Hetty and Callen but Nate cares. And I did some research this morning on the SecNav's new headshrinker - she is going to care too.

I'm angry at myself for not handling last summer better. Angry for wasting so much time away from you. Angry that I kept you away. I couldn't see you. In the beginning I was just such a mess and sleeping all day that nobody needed to see that. Then, well, I was angry about you not doing what I wanted in the garage. Add in not sleeping and not feeling right and I was a mess. Then Hetty breaks into my apartment and who the hell needed that. She scared me about you, though. So I guess she used you to get me to do what she wanted. Again. Hell of a bit of leverage she has there, huh? I think I may channel my anger issues into more of messing with Hetty's head. Yesterday morning was so empowering.

Last summer, the only one who handled things right was you. I asked you for time and you gave me time. When you thought I needed you, there you were. With food. And beer. I told you you'd make someone a great personal assistant someday. I honestly thought you'd be offended by wife or girlfriend so I switched gears. And did a piss poor job of it.

So that you know, you're a great friend, not someday, always. And a great partner, companion, whatever the hell we are to each other. No, that's wrong too. You're just great. I should tell you that more often. When you come back to me, I will.

I'm off to work. I've decided to sit in on Nate's presentation to the SecNav and company. Know what they're going to think before they get the full Marty Deeks experience. As part of that, I'm going to tell the SecNav how magnificent you are. How I survived because of you and how NCIS is so damn lucky to have you. So am I.

Be safe, come home,  
Not Gordy, never Gordy

*By the way, when you get back, skip "Anchor Man 2" - terrible movie. Not funny. Sam Hanna in a bad mood level of not funny.

x-x-x

**Postscript:**

An alert told Hetty that Deeks's credit card held a suite for one night at The Venetian in Las Vegas. Unfortunately, the alert found the credit card was used three days after the Navy Yard's Cyber-Unit started looking for her liaison officer. There were no charges from The Venetian - not for a room, not for food or entertainment either - on his credit card, just a five hundred dollar hold that disappeared days later.

The Venetian wanted a legal reason to hand over any information about Deeks's stay or security video confirming he was in the facility at all. Hetty knew it would be impossible to get a warrant to track a police officer obeying the law while on a summer walk-about. The Cyber-Unit called the security system protecting the casino's digital surveillance system something that would make the NSA weep. The former head of the unit, a Special Agent McGee, told Hetty that he thought with two decryption experts working on the hotel's security camera's firewalls would have it cracked by mid-August. Hetty thanked McGee for his time and declined the offer.

Nothing was charged to any of Deeks's credit cards since she closed the offices for the annual summer break other than scheduled monthly fees for his cable/internet, his gym membership and his Netflix subscription. It seemed Deeks was enjoying a cash only lifestyle with the money earned by his motorcycle.

Everything he loaded to his website was traced to an internet cafe in Fribourg, Switzerland that specialized in hiding internet addresses. It seems Mr. Deeks learned as much from Miss Jones as she did from him during their time in the field. Hetty was torn between being frustrated, proud and amused by his behavior.

The latest e-mail arrived just after she returned from a day sailing. She wasn't expected at the Yacht Club for dinner and drinks with the Grimaldis for another two hours. Plenty of time to try to figure where Detective Deeks's travels took him since his last e-mail.

Sent July 17, 2014 at 8:15AM MDT  
TO: henrietta . lange at ncis . navy . mil  
FM: deeks8523 at lapd . lacity . org  
Subject: How I'm Spending My Summer Vacation 2.0

Hey Hetty,

The latest update has been posted to Deekscursion dot tumblr dot com. Actually, two updates and some photos this time since I'm finally someplace where I can get access to the internet. Anyway, same password as last time - what paid for this time away, two words, no spaces, no caps. I'm learning so much on this trip. Seems Utah is completely underrated for its awesomeness but really troubled when it comes to the free secure Wi-Fi. Utah - who knew? I thought it was nothing but Osmonds.

I've found myself with an infusion of new cash - what happens in Vegas may stay in Vegas but what I won in Vegas is hitting the road with me. I'm off to find new adventures. I'm thinking water-based ones since I've spent far too long inland.

Marty Deeks

Hetty typed in "triumphbonneville" again and the website loaded. A page with three links appeared: "They See Me Rollin', They Hatin'" was first, "Swing, Baby Swing" was second, "What Happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas" was third.

Hetty started at the top. "They See Me Rollin', They Hatin'" link opened to photos of Deeks standing at the entrance of the U.S. Olympic facility in Park City. There were blue skies behind a tan and smiling Deeks. A video called "Flat on My Back" started to play.

The "Flat on My Back" video opened at the bobsled track. Deeks smiled for the camera as he eased himself on a luge. A male voice, off camera, offered advice, "Alright, Marty. Remember what you did on the practice track. If you feel yourself losing control of the luge or you're just uncomfortable, you know how to slow things down and we'll end the ride. There are folks stationed all around the track if there's a problem."

"There won't be," Deeks said as he strapped on the helmet with a camera.

"Have a good ride, Marty. It's a blast. Wait for the bell and go."

Deeks smiled and the helmet cam went live. Hetty heard Deeks take a deep breath and bell sounded. The video switched to a split-screen, the helmet cam and cameras along the track, as Marty Deeks rode a luge through the Olympic bobsled track. Hetty noticed staffers every few yards as Deeks went flying through the track. He had no trouble on the flat portions of the ride. She heard him take another deep breath as the luge hit the big turn. He handled it with ease. The video added a third view as he made it to the finish line. The handheld camera from the beginning of the ride now caught the final few yards.

At the finish line, Deeks started laughing. He jumped off the luge once he got it to stop and threw his hands up in the air. "That was awesome. I'm so doing that again," he told the handheld camera. Three quick cuts showed the end of three different rides.

Hetty shook her head and tried the "Swing Baby Swing" link. There was a photo of Deeks standing on a canyon in Moab with the Corona Arch just behind him, skies as blue as they were in Park City. He was still tan and smiling, looking like a man without a care in the world. She clicked on the video. There were a group of climbers walking up to the top of the Arch carrying a considerable amount of gear. A number of the climbers had their own video cameras. Hetty made a note to check YouTube for any non-Deeks supplied video of this event.

After watching the climbers secure some ropes for what Hetty thought would be a climb down the Arch, Deeks looked in the camera and said "Let's do it." The screen went black and music filled the room - "Swing Baby Swing" by The DNC. Wearing yet another helmet cam, Deeks appeared with some climbing ropes. Smiling, he ran to the end of the canyon and started to swing. The climbers secured a number of ropes to the top of the Arch, making the world's largest swing.

As the music played, Deeks and the other climbers took turns jumping and swinging from the Arch. Between split screens of the other climbers filming a swinger with a helmet can, Deeks twice held a broomstick with a camera attached to the end so Hetty saw again the unadulterated joy of the free-range Marty Deeks. The video and song ended with a group shot of the climbers/swingers as the sun was setting.

She clicked on the Las Vegas link. No video this time, just photos. Deeks standing under the "Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas" sign. Deeks in the ornate lobby of The Venetian. Deeks sitting in a gondola. Deeks at Madame Tussauds with his arm around Nick Fury/Samuel L. Jackson. Deeks in a black button-down shirt and jeans outside of "Rock of Ages" with his thumbs up. Deeks backstage at "Rock of Ages" with several stars including one Hetty vaguely remembered from the odious "Starlight Express" on Broadway years ago. Deeks wearing what he had on earlier in the day at what looked like a blackjack table. Deeks celebrating at the same blackjack table. Deeks filling out forms in an office with a stack of bills and finally a selfie with Deeks in a fluffy robe from what was obviously a high floor hotel room with The Strip and the Mirage behind him.

On the bottom of the page was his latest accounting.

US Olympic Complex in Park City Luge Lessons/Pro-Luge Run - $1,500  
Corona Arch in Moab Rope Swing Costs - $1,117.58  
Addition of some black-jack winnings at The Venetian: $17,745.17 (after taxes)  
Money left - $30,955.31  
Days left - 21

To be continued...

"Oh, Mr. Deeks," Hetty smiled and clicked on the swing video again.

-30-


	3. I'm Giving You A Longing Look

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 2013 - Deeks on his own. This got long, so two parts for chapter 3.

**3A**. "Even in a perfect world where everyone was equal  
I'd still own the film rights and be working on the sequel  
And I'm giving you a longing look  
Every day, every day, every day I write the book" - Elvis Costello

February 13, 2014  
4:20AM

After stifling two yawns, Nell finally let one loose. "I am so sorry. I am awake."

"Not for long if you keep trying not to yawn. Nell, we've been up for nearly twenty-four hours, you're allowed to be tired. What you're not allowed to do is to fall asleep." Deeks told her, hoping he'd convince his exhausted self the same thing.

"They said we'd be relieved at four."

"Rule one of field work - nobody's ever on-time. Back-up, bad guys, relief teams – someone is either showing up early or running late."

"They're over an hour late," she highlighted her complaint with another yawn. "That's not running late, that's crawling."

"Welcome to the wonderful world of working outside Ops," he told her, yawning a little himself.

"Do you think Assaf is here?"

"If he's not, I'm going to be pissed," Deeks sighed as he stretched behind the wheel. He had the Clippers-Trailblazers game on the DVR and planned on maintaining radio silence until he got home. A little surfing, some major breakfast at Joni's and a day long nap seemed more likely than watching the game. "And if he's not, we wasted a perfectly good night staring at Room 103 of The Snooty Fox Motor Inn, which, by the way, isn't even snooty."

"Personal knowledge?" Nell perked up.

"In law school, I was between apartments and sleeping on a buddy's floor. When he had a girl over, or I had a girl, The Snooty Fox had a three hours for twenty-five dollars deal, fifty for the night with five dollars off on Tuesdays."

"Romantic," Nell commented. "How long have you stayed awake for a single case?"

Deeks decided to keep the fact that his sleep patterns were barely normal after the summer. "I think I did about 36-hours but there were numerous twenty minute cap-naps along the way. I slept a lot after that. You never make up the missed sleep, though."

"Why were you up for a day and a half?"

"I had a drug deal arranged where one of my sketchy informants disappeared. I had to find him before I could go through with the deal. Steve wasn't the most trustworthy sort and I didn't need to walk into an ambush."

"Did you find him?"

"Yep."

"And..."

"A life lesson: never mix heroin with Tamiflu, even if you have a really bad cold."

"Oh," Nell said. "Did your deal go through?"

"Yep. Even got to use Steve's death to sell my cover," Deeks remembered as he shook his head. "This is a wonderful business we're in."

"Did you get the dealer?"

"Dealer, supplier, even a banker who was laundering the drug money for a cocaine commission - a career highlight. Not for Steve of course."

"I've seen your jacket. You have a lot of busts."

"Snooping in my past, are you?"

Imitating Yoda, Nell replied, "In a dark place we find ourselves, and a little more knowledge lights our way."

"Do you really want to be doing Yoda, Nell?" Deeks looked over at her and dramatically tilted head down to look at her.

"Size matters not. Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you?" She continued the Yoda voice.

"Only by your IQ size. And I am in awe," he told her truthfully. "We need to get you some sleep."

"No, let's talk about your cases. It will keep me awake." Nell returned to her normal speaking voice.

"Let's not."

"So you can know about my work but we can't talk about your career?"

"Is this turning into I'll show you mine if you show me yours? Because if it is, I've got an idea or two about how you know Nate."

"I told you, you get one try. One confirm and we'll keep going, one deny and you're done. Choose wisely."

"Now you're going all Indiana Jones on me," Deeks said as he stretched a little more. "What were we talking about?"

"Your arrests. Your work for the LAPD."

"Legal bureau, where I was pretty good at my job and the undercover unit, where I was better. And I am good at this, despite not being a former SEAL, former CIA/DEA or the smartest person at NCIS."

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Make being a really good undercover cop somehow less of an accomplishment than me acing an IQ test."

"It isn't less of an accomplishment. I've just heard time and time again all the things I'm not so I guess I'm defensive."

"Don't be. I'd give up a few IQ points for your experience."

"You'll have plenty experience before you know it so keep the IQ points. You were a major bad-ass with Brown," Deeks noticed a car pull into the Snooty Fox Motor Inn's parking lot. "And what do we have here."

A late model Honda Civic pulled into the parking space outside of Room 105. Out walked an older man who went straight to Room 103. Deeks tapped his earwig. "Eric, Assaf has company. Black Civic, a year or two old, California plate Seven-Ida-Ida-Ocean-Nora-Six-Eight."

"And where are Agents Nassir and Jackson?" Nell demanded.

"SUV got a flat on the 10. They're waiting for a replacement. The car belongs to a Joseph Irvin. He's got some white supremacist connections."

"Great," Nell told Eric. "Any connections to Assaf?"

"Irvin did some fundraising for the anti-Israel group S.I.O.N. He also raised money for some questionable educational programs at madrasas that the FBI believes are recruiting centers for S.I.O.N."

"A real prince. He's leaving now. That was quick," Deeks told Eric. The black SUV with Nassir and Jackson arrived just as Irvin got into the Civic. "Eric, Nassir and Jackson just pulled up. We're going to follow Irvin."

"I'll tell Callen."

"Why are we following him?" Nell asked.

"It's nearly 5AM on a Thursday. Where's he going? Why did he visit Assaf?"

"What if he goes home?"

"Then we need to find out what got him out of bed and over to the glorious Snooty Fox Motor Inn well after last call."

Deeks maintained a safe distance between Irwin's Civic and the black SUV he and Nell were using. As they turned onto the 10, Deeks pointed out the broken down black SUV with two of the motor pool staffers working on the flat to Nell. At Westwood, they switched to the 405 going north.

"Dammit," Deeks said. He tapped the earwig again. "Eric, the FBI info on Irvin, is he working for them?"

"Huh?" Nell and Eric said in unison.

The Civic got off at Wilshire with Deeks still following. The car finally slowed to a stop at the bus stop at Wilshire and Veterans Boulevard. Deeks drove past, turning on Veterans and then Ashton. "Eric, can you track him if he moves. We're about a block away."

"I got you both. He's got company," Eric told them. "I'm having a hard time getting anything about Irvin except the basics."

That's probably because he's a CI for the FBI, Deeks thought as he watched a figure move out of the pre-dawn darkness toward the car. Nell was taking pictures using a telephoto lens that Deeks thought was longer than her right arm. "Eric, I'm sending you some pictures of the man meeting with Irvin," Nell told him before sending the photos. She then showed the best picture to Deeks.

"Run the facial rec Eric but it looks like Jonas Ambrose to me. Dammit."

"It's Ambrose," Sam's voice boomed over the earwig.

"I could pick them both up for loitering. Bring them to the boat house, annoy the living ..."

"Don't," Callen told him. "Take the SUV to Century Plaza. Put it in the Macy's lot. I'll have Jimmy from the motor pool pick it up. Go to the Hyatt and cab it home you two. It's been a long day."

"When do you need us back?" Nell asked.

"If you don't get called in, noon Friday," Sam answered. "You two need some sleep."

Deeks turned the SUV back on Veteran's, watching as Ambrose and Irvin were still talking in bus stop. "I can still pick 'em up," he suggested in case Sam or Callen were still on the comms. "A soliciting charge would be fun." There was no reply as he made his way to Macy's.

As he turned onto Constellation, his phone rang. "Cell Phone LA" showed up on the caller ID. After the Hetty lecture last month, he answered but didn't identify himself. "Yeah?" he said as he removed his earwig.

"It's your Uncle Lou," Bates replied. "We have a family emergency."

Deeks straighten in the driver's seat as he pulled into a space. All family conversations from Bates were code about the LAPD undercover team being under attack. This wasn't good. "Is everybody okay, Uncle Lou?" Nell turned to look at him.

"Your cousin Angie was in an accident. She's asking for you in particular. I sent your cousin Matt to your place but all he found was your dog."

"I'm just coming off a double, Uncle Lou," Deeks left the car. "Can I get a shower before..."

"I'll have your cousin Adam pick you up at oh-six hundred at the fire house near your place." Cousin Adam being a uniformed officer. Bates loved the old "Adam-12" series - one of the reason he became a cop.

"How is she?"

"We'll talk when you get here. And you won't talk to the in-laws, got it? LAPD business."

"Yes sir." Deeks saw Nell waiting on the passenger side of the car as he disconnected. "Let's get over to the Hyatt."

"Is everything OK?" Nell asked, genuinely concerned.

"Oh yeah, fine," Deeks lied with ease, wondering if Nell knew LAPD thought of her as an in-law. He started walking with some purpose toward the Hyatt.

"Deeks, you don't have an Uncle Lou," Nell told him, almost jogging to keep up.

"No, I don't."

"Are you in trouble?"

"No. Family business," he told Nell. Deeks was relieved to see a row of taxis waiting for outside the hotel. "Oh good, lots of cabs, no waiting."

"Deeks, you didn't answer my question."

Actually, he did but it was nice to have someone care. "I'm not in trouble. Don't worry about me." Deeks flashed his badge to the bellman working the door. "I'm grabbing two cabs," he told the young man.

"Of course, officer."

Deeks pulled a twenty out of his wallet. "We weren't here."

"Someone was here, sir?" the bellman asked with a smile.

"In you go," Deeks opened the door to the first cab for Nell.

"I'll figure out who Uncle Lou is," she told him.

"I'm sure you will."

"We could trade, I can give you a hint about Nate," she offered as she got into the cab.

Deeks leaned in with a hand keeping the door opened. When the cab driver started to complain, Deeks flashed his badge. "You want to do this?" he asked Nell.

"Okay," Nell seemed confused.

"Your older brother Harry is a nephrologist at Mayo in Phoenix. One of the best in his field. He married an ophthalmologist named Michelle Rosen about fifteen years ago when they were residents at the hospital. Michelle, to piss off her overprotective mother, married a guy named David Rosen when they were both 19 and taking some advance cellular biology class at Rice. The marriage lasted four months but to annoy her mother, she kept Rosen's last name. Her mother, Judith Getz, didn't like David but wow does she love Harry. Everyone does - great guy. Michelle is Nate's sister. You wore a pink taffeta cocktail length dress as the youngest of the bridesmaids and the only female member of the bridal party from Harry's side of the family. Oh, by the way, all the women in the bridal party were saints for buying that stupid parasol Michelle insisted you all carry and wearing the hats." Deeks slammed the door closed and walked away. He was pretty sure he heard a "wait, how did you..." as he jogged to his own cab.

Liaison Officer: one; scary smart Intelligence Analyst: nothing, he scored mentally as he gave the cab driver the address to his place.

Monty nearly knocked him over when he opened his front door, racing to a tree outside to take care of business. He returned to the apartment one relieved dog. Deeks put out some food and fresh water while he stripped. His home phone had three missed calls - two from Cell Phone LA, which he assumed was Bates. The other was from Matt Bernhart, wondering if he was home because mean old Uncle Lou was looking for him. That's Cousin Matt.

After a quick shower, he took Monty for a more legitimate walk, this time to Midnight Sun for some coffee and a chorizo, egg and cheese sandwich. With a full stomach for him and Monty back in his dog bed for another busy day of napping by 5:45AM, Deeks stuff his vast array of electronics chargers, his mail, including a package from the Wyoming Secretary of State, into his old messenger bag - his new one was still in the office from yesterday. He also pulled the satellite phone out of the top of his boot and tossed it into the bag. He'd likely have a mark on his shin after nearly 17-hours of having it with him in case it rang. He half-walked, half-jogged over to the firehouse.

"Hey man, get in," Jeff Versey said as he pulled up.

"Bates told me he was sending a black and white," Deeks said as he got into the detective's SUV.

"He told me to I'm your cousin Adam. Do you know what's going on?"

Deeks decided to play dumb. "No man, just got called off a double shift when Bates called me in."

"The Feds pull doubles? Who knew?" Versey did about the most illegal U-turn Deeks ever saw before making his way to the 405. "Bates is doing family references, which is never a good sign. We've been kept out of things all week but the DEA, FBI and the Undercover Unit have been camped out in the Emergency Operations Center until about lunchtime yesterday. No one's been back since and since we're going to Kaiser in Irvine, that can't be good."

"No, it can't."

"I ran into Bates in the men's room, what, Monday night I guess and told him if he needed anything to call. He called this morning around five thirty, said he needed me to take you to Kaiser. He called, I'm here."

"Thanks for doing this, man." Deeks really just wanted to close his eyes, even this early in the rush hour it was going to take an hour to get to the hospital.

"Not a problem," Versey sighed. "Not a completely selfless offer either."

Deeks turned to his driver and raised an eyebrow. "Oh Jeffy, if you just wanted to see me, you could have called."

"Shut up, Deeks," Versey said with a chuckle. "I'm looking to make a change at the Department."

"OK."

"You know Greg Byrnes is retiring." Byrnes was a handler for Bates, mostly working short jobs - quick set-up, quick arrests, quick out. Easily the most paperwork intensive position on the squad, however.

"Yeah, got my invite to his retirement party. Normally I'd pass on a four-hour booze cruise buffet with cops who mostly hate me but Greg was always good to me so I'm going."

"Me too. I'm also pitching Bates on taking Byrnes's place."

"You'd be good at that."

"Kerry's pregnant."

"Congratulations," Deeks said, genuinely happy. "You're going to be a dad. That's great."

"It is. We're having twins."

"Wow. Double the fun."

"It's great. It really is. Kerry couldn't be happier but she's going to have to cut down on her hours once the babies are born. Not even once the babies are born, probably in two or three months. I could use the bump in pay and since Byrnes's group works quick cases..."

"You're not getting called at 2AM because I was busted to maintain my cover."

"Or working a ton of overtime. There's a lot of paper work with that but I can do that at home. It's the bump in pay I could use. I want to be there for my kids." Versey chuckled. "My kids. They're not even here and I'm worried about bullies, texting while driving, if we're living in a good enough school district, how much Stanford or Harvard will cost in 2031 or so."

"All signs of what a great parent you'll be," Deeks stretched and yawned a little. "Listen, I hate to be the lousy carpooler..."

"You're just coming off a double, we're going to hit traffic. Take a nap." Versey started chuckling. "See, I am in dad mode already."

The next thing Deeks knew, Versey was shaking him as they were turning onto Alton Parkway. He slept for just over an hour. "Please tell me I didn't snore."

"A little. The lack of drool was encouraging, though," Versey pulled up to the hospital grounds. "Deeks, if you guys need anything. Whatever the hell went wrong, people want to help. We all found out what happened to you, not exactly what happened but that you were badly beaten, and people wanted to help. Bates was so pissed, though, that he could barely speak."

"Yeah, well, it was a bad time."

"You look good, man. I was glad to hear you were back."

"Thanks," Deeks smiled as they pulled to the front door. "It may not carry any weight but do you want me to put in a good word with Bates."

"Just tell him I got you here. My last serious dealing with Bates before this was when you and I had our little dust-up back in the bad old days. He knows we're good and we've been good for a while but it doesn't hurt to have that reinforced."

"Done. Thanks again for the lift," Deeks said as he climbed out of the SUV.

"You need a ride back, gimme a holler."

There was a familiar looking uniformed officer named Russo waiting for him at the hospital door. "Just a head's up," the officer told Deeks as they got to the fourth floor, "the Lieutenant is pissed and the DEA Agent is out of his mind."

"Good to know," Deeks said as he got off the elevator alone. Angela's husband was a DEA Agent so that made sense. He found the waiting area just off the nurses station with Bates sitting alone. "I'm here. Versey picked me up, no problem."

"The last time I saw the two of you together, his partner, Bernhart, Ruben and Tommy Harris were pulling you two off each other."

"He was drunk and almost blew my cover."

"You two tore up the squad room. When Bernhart is the voice of reason..."

Deeks shrugged, not particularly proud of that moment. "Versey has been clean and sober for a while. He's a good cop. Good guy."

"He's pitching Byrnes's job. Any opinion?"

"I get a vote?" Deeks marveled. He was never with his LAPD team and his opinion carried some weight with the person in charge while at NCIS, he was looking for permission to go to the men's room from Hetty every now and again. "Versey's a good guy. Was able to straighten himself up - there's a lot to be said for that. Sets a good example that people can rehabilitate their reputations in the department."

Bates shook his head in agreement. "Honestly, when Byrnes told me last summer he was putting in his papers March 1st, I wondered if you'd be his replacement."

"Me?" Deeks was stunned.

"If you didn't want to go back to NCIS or back undercover, you'd be good at Byrnes's job. It is yours if you want it but since you're pulling doubles and then showing up here, I would imagine you still want to be where you are."

"I don't want to be here visiting my Cousin Angela if it means she's hurt. What the hell is going on?" Deeks asked, thinking he'd sort out that last bit from Bates about where he wanted to be when he wasn't so tired.

"Angela got grabbed Sunday."

"What? Why didn't anyone tell me? Who took her?"

"It was kept quiet because of the DEA. Sharon Winston and Jane Palmer took her."

"Nero Winston's women?"

"Angela's oldest has a birthday Friday. Valentine's Day. Marco took the boys Sunday to lunch and that Lego movie. He wanted to spend some time with them since he was undercover with the small cell of Winston's guys who didn't get pinched last month. He wrapped that up a week ago. Anyway, Angela drives down to the Citadel Outlet to get the birthday boy some sports stuff. We have her on video and credit card transactions of her buying sneakers at the Nike store, clothes at the Under Amour store and a pair of shoes for herself..."

"Because it wouldn't be Angela unless ridiculous footwear was involved."

Bates smiled for the first time since Deeks got there. "Exactly. We have video of her walking to her car but because a few of the security cameras weren't working, the car was in a blind spot. The car was found with the trunk opened, the kid's gifts inside and Angela's purse locked into front of the car."

"What happened?"

"As best we can figure, Winston and Palmer grabbed her and stuffed her into a black Yukon."

"As best we can figure?" Deeks asked.

"Angela's time away was difficult. She's not been talking much."

That wasn't good. "Did she get away?"

"We found her. We were able to trace the Yukon to a family in Cerritos, the Issacs. Bob Issac was rear-ended last Thursday, brought the SUV into a repair shop on Friday and got it back Tuesday. Bill Vincent, Sharon's brother, owns the repair shop. The DEA thought Winston was laundering his money through Vincent's repair shop but didn't have enough to get warrants. We got 'em yesterday."

"He had her?"

"The women had her. According to Vincent, they were using his storage room without his permission. Angela was chained to a mattress-less cot frame in a storage area of the garage with some classic rock station blasting all the time to cover her screams."

Deeks knew exactly how loud you could scream in a garage and know it means nothing. "How bad?"

"Bad. I'm not in on all of the particulars, Marco has some of that, but she wasn't fed the whole time they had her, barely given water. They shaved her head, beat her within an inch of her life a couple of times. She screamed when the EMT tightened the gurney strap on her arm. She was in surgery for a compound break in her wrist...it was a mess. She's a mess."

"Jesus. How's Marco? The uni said he was upset."

"If he ever calms down, he may only be upset. He's out of his mind. He got home with the kids, no wife. Started calling around after five when she didn't come home. Angie's sister is the hotel manager at the Doubletree across the street from the mall. Angela visited with Maria before she went shopping. Maria found the car."

"Oh God," Deeks said, shaking his head.

"It was all hands on deck after that."

"I'm a hand, you know."

"You are. And that's why you're here now. The investigation didn't need the last cop I had abducted on assignment..."

"...being a reminder what people can be made to survive."

"They all know really bad things happened to you, kid. They don't know how bad and if you decided to share it with them, that room would have gotten ugly." Bates sighed. "And I really don't want to be making statements about my last detective abducted while another one is missing."

"What's Angela's status now?

"She's been sedated. She had a rough patch last night and well, she had a rough patch. The only person she wants to talk to right now is you. Not her husband, not me, not Vic Flores in Psych Services. You."

Deeks fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed.

"Lange," Hetty answered.

"Hey Hetty, it's Deeks."

"Did you have a problem getting home, Mr. Deeks?"

"No. I've been recalled by LAPD for a few days. I'll be back Monday," Deeks told her as he saw Angela's husband, Marco Martinez, walking down the hall. When he saw Deeks, Marco crooked a finger at him and 'invited' Deeks to join him in the men's room.

"Mr. Deeks, I have not heard from Lt. Bates. This is terribly short notice when you know..."

"Hetty, here's Lt. Bates, you two can work this out. I'm needed elsewhere," Deeks handed his phone to his boss and said "Hetty," before walking to the men's room.

Deeks did not expect Marco Martinez to take a swing at him as he walked into the men's room. Despite being all sorts of exhausted, Deeks's instincts kicked in and he ducked just in time. Marco took out the hand sanitizer instead. "What the hell man?"

"What did you do with my wife?" Marco yelled.

"Excuse me?" Deeks put his hands up in a sign of surrender. "I just found out she was missing. I would have dropped everything..."

"That's not what I asked!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"But everyone in the hall is going to learn if you two don't shut the hell up," Bates said as he walked into the men's room. Tossing Deeks his phone, the Lieutenant said, "If you ever do that to me again with Mighty Mousette, you'll be writing traffic tickets for the rest of your career," Bates said before turning his attention to Marco. "Deeks just came off a double for your wife. That's what he's done. He's always watched out for her pretty damn good."

"I.."

"No, Marco, it's not 'I', it's her. She wants to talk to Deeks, she's talking to Deeks. She wants pizza and beer, we'll get her pizza and beer. You're pissed, you're terrified, you're feeling guilty. I feel for you. I do. But you're keeping that shit to yourself," Bates's tone was far more sympathetic than his words.

Marco took a deep breath and his anger all turned to fear. "You're right. I don't know why she'd want to talk to him."

"Him will ask her," Deeks told Marco, feeling badly for the man too. He threatened enough people who looked sideways at Kensi over the years, he couldn't imagine coming home with two kids and a missing wife. "Look, man, bad stuff happened to me last May. I might know what she's going through better than you, the Lou, Psych Services whatever."

"What happened?" Marco was suspicious.

"Dimed out to the Russian mob. Strapped to a chair, brace to keep my mouth opened and a handheld screwdriver with a drill bit on it took out all the teeth on the left side of my mouth."

Marco's eyes opened wide. "Jesus, man, I am so sorry..."

"Yeah. So of the three of us here, I may be the best ear."

"I don't know what to say."

"Go home, Marco," Bates told him. "See your kids, tell them Mommy is getting better. Send them to school and then get some sleep."

"Angie's mom is with them."

"Imagine how much better they'll feel with their father home," Deeks suggested.

"She wakes up and needs me..."

"I'll call the Lieutenant, he'll call you."

"I'm sorry, man."

"Don't be. If there's anyone left out there who as part of this, I'll be happy to help find 'em with you."

"We got them all," Bates assured both men. "I'm going in to question both of Nero's women around nine just to be sure. I'll update the both of you. Go home Marco. Kiss your kids. Get some sleep."

Marco went to the door with Deeks commenting "You may want to mention that the hand sanitizer had an accident," much to Bates's annoyance.

"You want to keep those new teeth of yours, don't poke Marco," Bates half said, half sighed.

Deeks put his hands out. "One minute he's inviting me in here, the next he's murdering the anti-bacterial soap dispenser."

"I gotta get a shower before I interrogate Winston and Palmer. The idiot brother is spilling his guts but I want to see if Nero was involved in this too. And if he is, how is he getting orders out of Atwater."

Deeks started to the door as a janitor walked in. His jumpsuit was considerably nicer than the one Hetty usually sticks him in. "I'll call you..."

Bates started walking Deeks down the hall to Angela's room. "You'll call me when she wakes up, you'll call me when you're leaving and kid, I'm not kidding, you pull what you pulled with me and the Diminutive Diva ever again, I'll recall you for a week's worth of traffic duty in July." He handed him a small digital video recorder. "If you can get her to make a statement, do it. Don't push, don't do anything to make her uncomfortable."

"Yes sir. And sir, you can call me when something like this happens. I could have helped." Deeks showed his badge to a uniformed officer named Simmons outside of the hospital room. The officer dutifully took down Deeks's information.

"You're helping now, Deeks. And Deeks, she took a hell of a beating so be prepared," Bates told him before he walked away.

Deeks thought he was ready for what he'd see when he pushed opened the door. He was wrong. Angela's beautiful, long black hair was shaved off her head with obvious cuts where the clippers took off some of her skin. One eye was swollen shut, the other was just black. Her lips were chapped and swollen. She had bruises on her cheeks and neck. Deeks saw four fingers in splints, and a short cast on her left arm. He guessed the parts he couldn't see under the hospital gown and blankets were equally bruised.

He knew why Marco was so insane. He was filled with rage and Angela was only his occasional undercover wife.

There was a couch with an end table on the near side of the bed. There was an electrical outlet near the end table – giving Deeks the opportunity to recharge both his cell and the satellite phone. Eyeing the couch, he figured he'd make himself comfortable while he waited for Angela to open her eyes.

"Detective," a nurse named Dionne shook him awake.

"Oh God, I'm sorry, I fell asleep."

"Nothing to worry about, your boss said I should let you sleep but the doctor is coming in to see Mrs. Martinez in a few minutes. Maybe you should go downstairs and get some coffee. I have a few things I have to do before Dr. Gwynn arrives."

Deeks looked at his watch, it was nearly 9:30AM. "I'm going to get some coffee. Would you like some." He quickly pulled both phones out of the wall socket and stuffed them into his messenger bag/pillow.

"The cafeteria coffee is, well, cafeteria coffee. Thanks for the offer, though."

"If she wakes up, you tell her I'm here, Detective Marty Deeks, and that I'll be right back."

"Yes Detective," she told him as the doctor walked in.

He asked the uniformed officer outside of the room if he wanted coffee. He did but he needed to pee more. Deeks let Simmons run to the john before making a coffee run. He stood with the uniformed officer until Dr. Gwynn and Nurse Dionne were done.

He took the hardback, plastic visitor's chair this time and sat by the window. The rains of the last few days gave way to a gorgeous sunny day. Come on Angela, he thought, wake up. Talk to me. Tell me you're OK. He couldn't imagine being strapped to a cot for days. Sidorov was the worst thing that ever happened to him and my God, he was looking at a woman who survived more.

Deeks shook his head, as if to make the bad thoughts go away. He opened his messenger bag and pulled out his mail. The key piece was from the Secretary of State in Wyoming. A Super Bowl party thrown by a law school buddy quickly turned away from the blowout game and into a "what you got going on?" round with several of his classmates. Deeks told them about the move into the movie business with the Triumph and now the Indian. The last week of January, the Indian made him nearly ten grand when an old bust - a photographer with a serious, now behind him, coke habit - was looking for classic vehicles to use in a shoot with young Hollywood starlets. A good looking young woman on a show about vampires was draped all over the bike - very hot and rather profitable.

Not hot, the legal liability if the bike fell on the actress' foot or was damaged on the trip back to Red's garage. All good points and things he should have thought of earlier. Two days later, a FedEx package from Stu Schwartz's law firm had all the papers from incorporating in Wyoming - all that was missing was the company name and Deeks's signature. Red Martin's Rental Motors was born.

It worked out perfectly. Linda was wrapping up the probate on Red's estate and was almost ready to turn over the official title to the bike - something he was sure Hetty would find if it was in his name. Now he'd move both bikes ownership to his new little corporation. He was there was a 1951 Ford Woody for sale at the March Police Auction. Why not add to the business or have a cool car for the beach?

Deeks reviewed the paperwork, also opened and paid his Amex and Monty's latest vet bills. One of the only few things he missed about long undercovers was Bates's assistant taking his checkbook and paying his bills. He teased Jackie that his credit rating always went up when she was writing his checks.

Just before noon, Angela started to stir. "Deeeeks," she said, just above a whisper when she saw him. "You came."

"Hey you," Deeks smiled and walked over to the bed. He hit the nurse's call button - he was asked by Nurse Dionne to tell the nurses station when Angela was awake. "Anytime my occasional undercover wife wants to see me, I'm committed enough to our fake marriages over the years to find the time." He leaned over and kissed her on her forehead. "And anytime my friend Angela wants to see me, I'll drop everything to see you."

"Good morning Mrs. Martinez," Nurse Dionne walked in. "How are you this morning?"

"Fine," Angela sounded more like she was convincing herself than answering the nurse.

"Dr. Gwynn will be with you in a minute or two."

"I'd like to go to the bathroom."

"And that's my cue to get some coffee but I'll be back," Deeks assured her. "Can I get you something from the cafeteria?"

"We'll be providing Mrs. Martinez with lunch in a few minutes."

"I really need to pee," Angela said.

"I really need to leave," Deeks joked. "I'll be back and we'll talk after you're done with the doctor."

"Hey Deeks."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for coming."

Deeks winked at the Detective as he took his messenger bag. "Anything for my work wife," he said as he left Angela to Nurse Dionne.

The uniform at the door needed to pee again - the man had the bladder of a woman eight months pregnant with twins. Dr. Gwynn entered Angela's room just as Officer Depends returned. The trip to the cafeteria included an apple for him - he really wasn't hungry - a tuna wrap and some decaf for Simmons and what Deeks hoped he remembered was one of Angela's favorites.

Again, he hung with the uniformed officer while the man wolfed down his food. Deeks wasn't sure where Bates got this guy from but at six-four, probably 265-pounds and a wide and thick as Sam Hanna, Deeks wondered where this guy was when he was in the hospital. Ty got into his room with a gun, a change of clothes and news that Kensi was off with Sam dealing with Sidorov. So he was off to deal with Sidorov too. Bates was making sure nobody got near Angela.

He sent a text to Bates saying Angela was up and the medical folks were tending to her.

Dr. Gwynn left without a word. Deeks knocked before returning to the room, seeing Angela sitting up in the bed, wearing a robe with a tray of hospital food and a glass of water on the hospital. Nurse Dionne was working on Angela's chart.

"The Lou told me if you wanted pizza and beer, he'd bring it."

Nurse Dionne chuckled. "Maybe wait a day or two for the pizza and beer."

"We'd share."

"You're damn right you will," the nurse's smile was warm and kind. "Don't wear out Mrs. Martinez."

"In his dreams," Angela answered. The snark was music to Deeks's ears.

"What are they feeding you?" Deeks asked as the nurse left.

"Turkey sandwich, a couple of apple slices and water."

Deeks opened his messenger bag and pulled out a yogurt parfait with berries and granola.

"You're the best fake husband a girl could ever have," Angela said as he handed her the parfait. A distant "Lucy!" sounded through the room. "That's my cell."

Deeks opened the night stand drawer next to the bed. Inside, he saw an eyeglasses case, a cell phone and a photo of the Martinez family at what looked like a wedding - the boys in matching little suits, Angela in what had to be a bridesmaids dress and Marco in a suit. "Here's your phone, glasses and beautiful family," he told her, passing all three items to her. "Lucy?"

"Marco does a mean Ricky Ricardo. Alex found the sound and loaded it on my phone." She looked at her phone, putting on her glasses. Whatever she saw caused tears to come to her eyes.

"You OK?"

She smiled at him, putting down the phone and returning to the treat. "You ever heard of Vincente Perez?"

"The guy who takes famous quotes or writes allegedly deep things, screws around with the fonts and typesets and color and has made a mint selling it as art."

"It is art."

"Bob Ross and his happy trees would disagree but OK."

"He lived in the house behind us when he was just starting. He's a good guy. He gave us one of his pieces after he made it big. Marco helped him out with a crazy ex."

"That's got to be worth something."

She handed him the phone. "It's priceless. Because it's us."

Deeks looked at the Angela's idea of 'art' and started to read it out loud, "Ours is a love story. It goes like this. Man meets woman. She's got issues. Man thinks he's perfect. Woman knows better. They spend hours together. Despite the odds, they fall in love. Mad love. She makes him a better person. He hates to admit it. He can't imagine life without her. He buys the ring and asks: Will you marry me." Deeks wondered when the hospital room got dusty.

"At least I hope it's us."

"It is you two. He's crazy about you," Deeks told her, omitting just how crazy he was a few hours ago. He handed her the phone. "Bates gave me a camera and if you want to give a statement, I'll take it. If you don't, we can do it some other time."

"Will you stay after I give the statement?" she asked as she scooped out the last of the parfait.

"I'm here until you throw me out." Deeks took the camera out of his messenger bag. "We do as much as you can handle. I'll ask the questions and if you want to stop."

"Once I start, I'm going to the end," she said, almost convincing herself as she assured him. "Let's do it."

Deeks flipped the screen so he could see himself. "This is Detective Marty Deeks, LAPD 8523. It is," he looked at his watch, "12:44PM on Thursday, February 13th. I'm interviewing Detective Angela Sanchez, LAPD." Deeks flipped the screen so he could put the camera on the hospital table. "Detective Sanchez, can you tell me what happened after you walked to your vehicle outside the Citadel Outlets on February 9th."

For the next 90 minutes, Detective Sanchez shared everything she could remember.

-30-

This got long so I'm splitting it in two.


	4. Every Day I Write The Book

For the next 90 minutes, Detective Sanchez shared everything she could remember.

Deeks turned off the camera and told Angela how proud he was of her. She started weeping. As Deeks handed Angela a box of tissues and poured her a glass of water, he told her he had to tell Bates he had her statement. He'd be just outside of the room for five minutes but he'd be back, he swore. Angela told him she needed a few minutes to compose herself. Deeks needed a few minutes not to want to find the people behind the kidnapping and beat them like a hand sanitizer.

Officer Bathroom-Break was replaced by a young female officer. "How is Det. Sanchez?" Officer Jackson, according to her nameplate, asked.

"She's awake and talking. She's also one of the bravest people I've ever met."

"She spoke to my class at the Academy. They had a seminar for women in law enforcement. She knows so much. She's my ideal."

"Officer," Deeks read her nameplate, "Jackson..."

"Sheryl, sir, call me Sheryl," she interrupted.

"I'm Deeks, not sir. Bates is sir. If you want to be like Det. Sanchez, do an awesome job here. Then do an awesome job on your next assignment. And keeping doing awesome jobs. And when you need to be brave, all that awesome comes back to you. I need you to do something for me."

"Anything, sir."

"Anything Deeks, please. I need you to contact Roger Bates for me and to tell him that I have Det. Sanchez's statement. I need him to send someone I trust to pick it up."

"Yes si...Deeks."

"See, you're well on your way to awesome," Deeks said as he started to open the door. "Sheryl, I'm guessing Marine."

"3rd Tracks out of Pendleton, sir...I mean Deeks. How did you know?" She smiled at him as she fished her phone out of her pockets.

"Just a guess. Call Bates, Marine Sheryl, tell him I need to hand it over to someone I trust," Deeks told her as he returned to the room. Angela was pulling apart the turkey from her sandwich and eating a little. "I'll get you something..."

"The yogurt was perfect. I think I just need some protein."

"If you need to rest..."

"How did you do it?" she asked.

Deeks sat at the end of the bed. Angela's tiny frame and the fact that she was sitting left plenty of room at the end of the bed. "Do what?"

"Stay you."

"I'm sorry..."

"You're you. Bates told me everything. I was in his office when the call came in that you were injured but back in the field. That I guess came from an administrator in your office."

Deeks figured it was Eric. He was the one who usually contacted LAPD for or about him. "Okay."

"He told me to stay and then he called I guess your NCIS boss. He wanted me there so he wouldn't start swearing."

Deeks chuckled. "I always loved it when you were around and he was reading me the riot act." Deeks started to imitate his boss. "Deeks, dammit, excuse me Angela, what the hell, I'm sorry Angela, were you thinking? Your ass, my apologies Angela, is going to wind up in the hospital or in an IA hearing if you don't do your g-damn job, forgive me Angela." Deeks cleared his throat when he was done. "God, how does he talk like that all day and still have vocal cords."

Angela smiled. "You know, I told him once that I felt his apologies sort of separated me from the team."

"What did he say?"

"I can't do the imitation but he said that he shouldn't be using that language period and that maybe he should have me around all the time when he's talking to you. Or Bernhart."

Deeks feigned being serious. "Matthew and I are just terribly misunderstood."

"You're both great cops. I want..." Angela looked down. "How did you get back to being..."

"You can't use anyone else as a marker for how you're doing. I sat in my apartment with the lights on for a week because where they kept me was dark. I didn't sit in a regular chair for nearly six weeks. Flopped on my couch, sat on the floor, sat on the bed, sat on the sand or the rocks at the beach. Any chair with arms...just no." He looked down, looked and her and took a deep breath. "Got into a thing where I couldn't sleep. Didn't talk to anyone for a while. Don't recommend either."

"You can't control being able to sleep."

"Could have worked out more. Could have made myself so tired I'd drop. I tried a lot of, well, one of the people I work with would call new age crap," Deeks put air quotes around the phrase, "to find some inner peace to get to sleep."

"Find any?"

"Not in books or tapes or the sounds of the rain forest while I was trying to sleep."

"What did you do?"

"Tried to talk to people was saw me as me. I saw Bates once or twice. He looked at me with such pity. I didn't need pity. I needed normal."

"Normal?"

"The rain forest sounds were pity. Something super bad happened so I needed something super special to heal myself. Which was stupid. Since I was 12 years old, if I wanted to hear the water and sleep, normally I'd take a towel and an old pillow to Leo Carrillo and sleep there. But since what happened to me never happened to me before, I tried to find different ways to handle it."

"How'd you find normal?"

"Slowly. The person who runs what I do at NCIS showed up one day out of the blue. It was a kick in the ass. An inappropriate kick in the ass in some ways but something I needed. Saw their shrink. Good guy but..."

"Vic Flores sent me a text."

"I'm not going to tell you how to handle your recovery but I spoke to Vic last summer the day before I went back to work. He's a good guy but he's there to get guys with drinking problems into rehab and getting their careers back on track. He's there for guys whose marriages are in trouble or who saw something awful. What you survived, what I survived, he means well but..."

"Who do I talk to?"

"That's what you need to figure out. Took me a while."

"You have a shrink? Can he recommend anyone?"

"Not really a shrink." Deeks hadn't told anyone but Angela deserved the truth. "I had to go to San Diego a few weeks ago for a Department of Defense shrink convention. Nothing like hours of navel gazing for Uncle Sam."

"San Diego's nice."

"Totally the upside to the seminar but I left in a foul mood. Got back and had a message from the Dean of Discipline from my high school."

"He still calls you?"

"I still owe about 10 hours of J.U.G. Sorry, detention." After hearing Angela laugh, Deeks told her "I'm not kidding. Anyway, I was sort of a regular with Fr. Griffin."

"Oh that's right, you went to Catholic school."

"Part of junior year and all of senior year. Saw four years' worth of Fr. Griffin though," Deeks smiled. "Anyway, he wrote lots of nice letters to get me into college and law school - I'm hard to stay mad at most of the time."

Angela laughed. "Bates would know nothing about that."

"No, he wouldn't. Anyway, Fr. Griffin calls from time to time when he got some kid who is smart but got himself into trouble and needs a kick in the butt..."

"This is Marty, he was a mess like you, now look at him. If you straighten up, you could be like him but probably look better groomed," Angela filled in the blanks smiling.

Deeks laughed. "Yeah, something like that. Anyway, I go see him and do the usual. The kid was like me - hardship student with a big bucks patron at the school. After I give the kid the 'straighten up and fly right' speech and send him on his way, Fr. Griffin sits me down and asks me what's wrong."

"He knew."

"He's not your typical...anything. He's a Jesuit. 68-years old, flew helicopters in Vietnam for the Marines. Got back, started college, did some things he's not particularly proud of, was sitting in a party in Venice and heard someone ask him what was he doing with his life. Only he was smoking a joint in the garden and he was alone."

"God?"

"He thinks so."

"You don't."

"Not my story, it's his." Deeks shook his head. "Got his mind right. Got his degree in social work. Joined the seminary. Got his masters in theology. Then a masters in social work, psychology, then another in French literature."

"French literature?"

"He's an interesting guy. Loves going to school. Got a doctorate in French literature, too. He taught French and honors lit in the high school when he wasn't figuring out ways for tragically misunderstood students like me to volunteer at soup kitchens or senior centers with the free time we'd have from not causing trouble in school."

"And he picked up you were having problems."

"You said before I got back to being me. No. That guy's gone. He died when a Russian psycho started drilling teeth. Zombie Deeks got through that day. Trying not to be Zombie Deeks did rehab and recovery. Trying to figure out the new model was a running project after I got back to work. There were good days once I got back but there were days where I was going through the motions. But people depended on me. And if people I trusted and respected depended on me and if they thought I could get through the day, I could get through the day."

"Faking it 'til you're makin' it."

"Something like that. Then there were some personnel changes with my gig at NCIS. Not happy with those. Then someone decided to do a whole psychological study about me and that's not my deal either. Fr. Griffin, after I gave the kid the talk, he offered to buy me dinner. An hour later, we're at the Palm and I'm unloading."

"Confession."

"Not Catholic. Just finally found someone without an agenda when it came to me."

"What do you mean?"

"LAPD's shrink, their Psych Services guys are great and they mean really well but they're there so you don't eat your gun, shoot a civilian or do something you shouldn't. NCIS has a shrink who is this really good guy but he doesn't believe in what the person running the liaison program did the day I was hurt. The boss is, well, intimidating so he's voicing his disapproval with these passive-aggressive medical studies about what happened with me as test subject number one. The only agenda Fr. Griffin, Mike, has is me."

"So that one talk.."

"Well, I go surfing the following Saturday and guess who is there with his board and wet suit."

"Fr. Griffin."

"And the following Saturday and the Saturday after that. I took him out to breakfast after that and every Saturday since. We're just two guys with weird pasts, surfing and having breakfast on Saturday mornings."

"Has it helped?"

"I don't know. Been a couple of weeks. If I have any advice for you, it's find someone who doesn't have an agenda. Who doesn't care about your job performance or what's expected. Who just wants you to be in a good place."

"So don't talk to..."

"Talk to anyone, talk to everyone. I spoke to Psych Services. I spoke to the NCIS shrink. Figured out early both of them had nothing for me. I spoke to Bates, I spoke to the person running the liaison program at NCIS. Six weeks ago if you asked me if I'd be surfing with this sixty-something retired Marine helicopter pilot turned Catholic priest and getting my life right, I'd have had Psych Services check you out. You find help in the most unexpected places."

"What about the leggy brunette?"

"Who?"

"Nobody ever told me her name. Tall, gorgeous, dark hair, drives a Caddy SUV."

"The leggy brunette?" Deeks started to laugh. "She'd love that."

"I've seen her pick up you a couple of times or drop you off at the station. About a year ago when Dr. Schwartz's office had that scandal," Angela was smiling so Deeks was happy to play along. "You had to give some official statement at headquarters. I was dropping off my requalifying scores and I saw you walking out. You were wearing a suit. You looked good."

"I rock a suit with the best of 'em."

"The leggy brunette thought so. She was all dressed up too. She smiled when you walked out of the building but quickly put her game face on when you got closer. She thinks you're cute."

"She thinks a lot of things about me. Cute, no."

"Nah. I saw her. I was her. I did that with Marco the first six months we were on that Jordan case. I couldn't let anyone know I how bad I had it for him. I was ..."

"Two years away from being Mrs. Marco."

"I didn't think he saw anything in me. I'm short and stubby."

"You're tiny, curvy, feisty, gorgeous and smart. You're the whole package."

"I'm guessing so is the leggy brunette. She's the one you who has faith in you. She's the one..."

"She's a lot of things. And she thought I could do it. Do my job, be the person she thinks I am. She's smart and really good at what she does so if she thinks I can work at this level..." There was a knock at the door. "Hold on," Deeks told Angela as he pulled his weapon. Hospital personnel were free to come in, a knock meant something else.

Deeks opened the door a crack and saw Matt Bernhart waving like a lunatic with about two dozen get well soon mylar balloons.

"I'll be right back," Deeks told Angela, "LAPD is here to pick up your statement so don't go anywhere."

"How's Ang?" Bernhart asked as Deeks closed Angela's hospital room door behind him.

"Is there a balloon available between here and the station?"

"This little rat bastard wanted one for his baby brother who had his tonsils out. I wanted to tell him to grow a pair, I needed the balloon, but I let him slide since he was about eight. How's Ang?"

Deeks wasn't sure if Matt was kidding or not. He was guessing not. "Hurting but she's Angela."

"I don't want to bother her, just drop these off and take her statement back to Bates. And no, I won't watch it. Bates told me if I do anything but get in the car and drive the statement directly to him, he's going to put me in a Green Lantern costume and put me outside of Grauman's. In July. With a costume one size too small."

Deeks put the digital camera in Bernhart's backpack and then took the balloons off his hands. "I'll tell Angela you were here."

"And that if she needs me, I'm here. I want to help. If she and Marco need someone to watch the boys..."

Deeks started laughing. "She's not leaving her children alone with you."

"No, you're right. She's a responsible adult and that would be foolish." That statement got a giggle out of Marine Sheryl, who was smiling throughout. "I can help somehow. Get Mom's chef to make up dinners or something."

"The veggie lasagna mini-trays you dropped off last summer were great."

"Cause you're my boy, Martin. And Ang is my girl, but don't let Marco know that. The man is a bit protective. Bates told me about this morning."

"What happened this morning?" Sheryl asked.

"He assaulted a Purell machine in the men's room. The Purell machine had it coming, I'm sure." Bernhart was in full flirting mode.

"I'm going back to our patient. Go see Bates," he said before walking into the room.

"Bernhart," Angela said as he put the balloons by the couch.

"Who else."

"The kids will love them. The kids..."

"Are with your Mom and Marco. And they're going to be thrilled to see you."

"I don't ..."

"Don't do that."

"Do what."

"The biggest mistake I made was not ...I...dammit." Deeks took a deep breath. "I didn't answer calls. I didn't see anyone for a while. For a long while. I figured I'd get myself going and then show everyone else I was fine and go back to everyday life."

"That was wrong?"

"For me it was. I had someone who wanted to help. Someone I've come to realize I need. And I pushed them away."

"The leggy brunette."

Deeks sighed. "When she's not infuriating, she's smart, kind and cares. She's kicked my ass every damn day since we met and I ran and hid from her. It was a mistake."

"But you two are OK, right?"

"She's been on an extended assignment since mid-November. And I look at every minute I spent alone in that apartment, or sitting on the beach alone as time I could have spent with her. I declined her phone calls dozens of times. I'd do anything to have her call."

"Are you two..." Angela sort of waved her hands.

"We were trying to figure that out before...more time we wasted, I guess."

"I'm sure the leggy brunette knows you're the whole package too."

"I'm sure there's a joke about my package there but..." Deeks smiled as he watched Angela blush. "You know, I'm now going to think of her as 'the leggy brunette' every time I talk to someone at LAPD."

"I've called her that to Bates, to Bernhart, to Greg. Bates keeps all your assignment info quiet. So you got the leggy brunette, the big dude - he was the guy injured with you last year. There's the boss lady who terrifies Bates. She's my favorite and I don't even know who she is."

"She'd like you. She likes smart, strong, brave women. And while the team has the leggy brunette, they also have a tiny red head who I'm sure will be running the world in about ten years. You know, if you want to make a career switch," Deeks teased.

"I'm already making one."

"I was joking." Deeks was worried. "Listen, I thought I was quitting after..."

"No, not that. This was always going to be my last case with the Department. Marco's been transferred," she said before she took a sip of water.

"Where?"

"Desk job. Marco just turned fifty."

"Marco's fifty? Wow, I wouldn't have guessed he was a day over forty." Wow, he really needed to sleep if a guy 15-years older than he was nearly took him out in the men's room.

"I tease him all the time about being a cradle robber. He was the big boss on the Jordan case and I was the rookie undercover who spoke Spanish like a local girl. He never saw me coming."

Deeks chuckled. "You're so tiny nobody ever does." She tossed her pillow at him. "There's my girl."

"Marco got promoted to an intelligence gig at the DEA. It's in Arlington."

"Wow. East Coast Angie."

"Marco's from Newark. He wound up in LA twenty years ago but always wanted to go back to somewhere where he said the four seasons weren't fires, earthquakes, floods and mud slides. The DEA offered me a job training undercover operatives, developing a mentoring program for young agents. Stuff where I won't get grabbed up and ..." Angela started crying again.

"You'll be great." Deeks leaned over and grabbed her hand. "And Angela, you can call me anytime to talk. I can ask the NCIS shrink if he knows anyone at the Pentagon or in DC. Fr. Griffin probably knows people. I bet Bates knows folks from his Army days."

"All I wanted to do was survive so I could see my family again. Now, I don't want to do more than survive. I want it to be like it was."

"It won't, but that's not the worst thing. The worst thing is if you let this take things away from you. Set small goals. The day I got the stitches out of my face was a good day. I finished up with the dentist so that was a good day. Started swimming and surfing."

"Never a bad day at the beach."

"You know me so well," Deeks told her. "And I know you. And I know about your family and the people you have around you. My only regret, well besides the whole thing happening, was keeping the leggy brunette at arm's length. Not because she could have fixed me or anything. I had to fix myself. You have to fix yourself. It's just...I realize now that she's not a ten minute ride in the car from my place or sitting at her desk at work or on the other end of the cell right now, I cheated myself. I screwed that all up. And she wasn't going to run away from me if I had a bad day and she wasn't going to think less of me. She just would have been Ke..the leggy brunette. And I've come to realize that someone who'd do that for me was more than I ever thought I'd get in this life."

"When's the leggy brunette coming back? I want to meet her."

"When the case is over. You know how it goes," Deeks shrugged his shoulders.

"I want Marco and the boys to be proud of me."

"How could they not be proud of you. You survived. Evil people threw their worst at you and you won by surviving."

"For them. When I was hungry, I thought about what we had for Christmas dinner. All the fun we'd have finding new places to eat in Virginia."

"If the leggy brunette is back before you leave for the East Coast..."

"We're moving first week of August."

"You, me, Marco, the boys and the leggy brunette at Neptune's Net. You'll like her."

"You do. That's enough."

"And your family loves you."

Angela's cell phone chirped "Lucy!" again. She picked it up and looked at the screen. She smiled and started crying. She handed Deeks the phone. There were Angie's two boys with a piece of oak-tag. "Can we visit?" was written on the sign with a couple of Mario and Pokemon stickers.

"You up to this?"

"I prayed for four days I'd see them. I have to be."

"You don't have to be anything," Deeks told her. "You do what's best for you."

"I miss them," she said with conviction.

"Not faking it 'til you make it?"

"Nope. Miss my guys. I'm going to call them."

"I'm going to use your bathroom. Then I'll hang around until they get here. Then I'm going home and sleeping for a while."

"Do me a favor."

"Anything."

"What's the leggy brunette's name? I won't tell anyone or repeat it but anyone that important to you needs a real name."

"Kensi. The leggy brunette is Kensi." Deeks said as he made his way to the bathroom door.

x-x-x

Marco and the boys arrived just before five. While Angela was hugging her sons and kissing them - something they suddenly didn't mind after two years of squirming away from Mommy-based affection - Marco shook Deeks's hand and apologized. Bates told Marco that Deeks got a statement from Angela - something Marco was relieved was done.

Marco also told him that Nero was giving instructions to his wife and mistress after Angela was kidnapped, not before, through his lawyer. The lawyer was underwater on mortgages for a Beverly Hills house and a summer place in La Jolla. Nero paid well. The lawyer said Nero was furious Angela was kidnapped. They still believed Angela was still Maria Rivera, her undercover persona. LAPD, led by Bernhart, picked up the lawyer around 3PM. He was working on a sting to add charges against Nero. Deeks told Marco he'd be by tomorrow morning if Angela wanted company and Marco needed to work. Marco liked that idea - get the family back on some sort of schedule.

Deeks saw Officer Jackson as he left. She wanted to know about Det. Bernhart. His answer - "he's the best kind of crazy" - made her smile. He made a mental note to tell Bernhart that.

As he walked past the nurses station, he heard a familiar voice ask "How is Det. Sanchez?" He honestly wasn't surprised to see Hetty sitting there. Nurse Dionne's comment about his boss telling them to let him sleep - probably more Hetty than Bates.

"She had a brutal few days but she's strong and she's got a great family. She'll figure it out and if she needs my help..."

"Det. Sanchez couldn't ask for a truer friend." Hetty stood. "Lt. Bates told me you were given a lift here and I wanted to make sure you got home safely."

"While you were here," Deeks told her as they walked to the elevator, "you didn't happen to see the janitor's uniforms, did you? Looked comfortable."

"I'll have Mr. Beale look into it."

"Hetty, I can take a cab home. You didn't have to come."

"I was in the neighborhood. The clutch in the Jaguar is acting up and the dealership in Irvine does wonderful work."

"Okay." Deeks said skeptically as they got into the elevator.

"They're keeping the car overnight. I have a loaner. I thought since you were brought here, I could give you a lift home. We could also discuss Miss Jones."

The elevator door opened and Hetty exited with Deeks behind her. "She's doing really well."

"Of course she is. No, she showed up at the office around 11 this morning."

"Okay," Deeks was trying to follow but then it hit him. He smiled. "She was..."

"I believe Mr. Beale said she was officially running for mayor of Obsessiveville."

"What did she do?" Deeks asked, chuckling.

"I think the better question, Mr. Deeks," Hetty said as they walked up to a late model red Jaguar XKP Coupe. "is what did you do to make the usually unflappable Miss Jones..."

"Flappable," Deeks interrupted as he admired the car.

"That would be a fair description," Hetty disappeared behind the driver's side. When the lock popped on his side of the car as Hetty sat on a pillow as thick as his home mattress.

"I had a bet going with Nell that I would figure something out. I did. She was surprised."

"And what did you figure out?"

"How she knows Nate."

"Oh, that explains why she checked the internet usage on both your work and home computers."

"I'm disappointed Nell thought I was dumb enough to use the internet at work or at home. Or even use the internet."

As Hetty pulled out of the parking lot and into traffic. "And how did you discover their connection?"

"Nate and I wound up having dinner with the SecNav and Dr. Carson in San Diego. Nice women. Nate made a comment about having a sister named Michelle who was an eye surgeon and who worked with Doctors Without Borders. I wondered if maybe Michelle and Nell knew each other. I found a Dr. Michelle Rosen, eye surgeon, on the Doctors Without Borders website. There was a glowing article at the site from the Arizona Republic about Dr. Rosen and her husband, Dr. Harry Jones, and how they spend a month every year in places like Sri Lanka, Africa and Cambodia as angels of mercy. Dr. Jones was just too much of a coincidence."

Hetty smiled. "Mr. Beale told me she kept saying 'He has pictures,' as she furiously examined your browsing history."

Deeks gave himself a mental high-five. "I had a CLE class at Pepperdine in the beginning of the month. There were the usual legal vendors at the cafeteria. One was from LEXIS/NEXIS. Gave him a few bucks to use his credit card to run a search," Deeks told her - not mentioning that 'a few bucks' was actually a C-Note. "I found all I could on Michelle Rosen, including a 1999 wedding announcement in the Houston Chronicle. Found that in the periodical room at the Loyola University library. Microfiche is alive and well."

"Very well done, Mr. Deeks. Very well done."

"Thank you, Hetty." Deeks was still quite pleased with himself.

"And will you be sharing your investigative method with Miss Jones?"

"I think Nell may need a project. Of course with no real paper trail..."

"You will tell her at some point."

"She has a birthday in May," Deeks smiled.

"And you'll be with us in May?"

"Excuse me?"

"Lt. Bates told me Det. Sanchez is leaving LAPD. And was leaving before her ordeal."

"Yeah, I just found out about that."

"You didn't know."

"No, I didn't. I'm really not involved in the day to day business of the squad anymore."

"Now Lt. Bates has two open positions."

"Yeah, well, maybe not two. There's an internal candidate who wants Greg Byrnes's job. I put in a good word for him this morning."

"So you're not involved in the day to day business but you are comfortable making recommendations to Lt. Bates."

"Bates trusts me. Nice thing to have in a boss."

"I trust my agents," Hetty paused, "and my liaison officer in all matters."

"Unless they want to ride a motorcycle in their free time."

"Touche."

"When she gets back, can you teach Kensi the proper use of that word? She's got real issues with it."

Deeks saw Hetty crack a small smile. "You didn't answer my question."

"I don't understand what you're asking."

"Will LAPD be recalling you for good?"

"I'm not replacing Angela."

"Good to know."

Deeks decided to mess with Hetty a little. "I'd have a hard time fitting in her undercover outfits. I look terrible in a low cut wrap dress and four inch heels."

"I don't know Mr. Deeks, I think you could carry it off."

"I'd try," Deeks decided to pull back on the messing with Hetty. Janitor uniforms were still better than a wrap dresses and heels. "Angela was the only female working full-time for the squad and one of only three bilingual detectives. That's what Bates will be looking for."

"And what are you looking for, Mr. Deeks?"

"Looking for?"

"You've done a remarkable job living in two worlds. You're as good as any undercover operative I've had at OSP yet you insist on remaining with the LAPD."

"I think we had this conversation. I'm a police officer. What NCIS does is great and I'm honored to be part of it but I can't ever see not being a cop."

"And if the liaison position was eliminated."

"Are you making plans?"

"Are you?"

"Until we had this conversation I thought everyone was happy with my situation. If this is you telling me you need to make a change..."

"Or LAPD needs to make a change. You can't assume that both NCIS and LAPD will stay happy with your situation."

"No, but I'll deal with that when it happens. A friend recently told me that man plans and God laughs. Maybe I'm tired of God laughing at me. Or maybe I'm just tired."

"Perhaps. But Mr. Deeks, one of these days you are going to have to make a choice."

"Maybe, but today's not that day."

x-x-x

Hetty kept things light for the remainder of the ride. Callen was following a hunch on Assaf. He'd call if he had anything. Hetty also got a call where she spoke French. "Monte Carlo" and "Monaco" were the only English word he recognized. "Douzieme de juillet" was 12th of July if he remembered any of his high school French. Deeks found his car parked outside his building - Hetty had an agent drop it off during the day. One less thing to worry about before visiting Angela on Friday.

Monty was a little less desperate than he was about twelve hours earlier - Madison, the latest high school kid/dog walker was probably by at lunch time. Monty figured out pretty early the walk was to the corner and back. "Sorry dude, I need some sleep," he told his dog as they started walking home.

Once Monty was walked and feed, Deeks plopped on his couch. Just before 7PM, he decided a quick nap would do. He woke at 2:20AM. Less nap, more a crummy night's sleep. Monty was sleeping under the coffee table - his favorite spot last summer when Deeks wasn't sleeping. He was a good dog.

He opened and drained a can of tuna. He mushed a little salsa in with a plastic fork and had a late night dinner. Tres elegant. A text on his phone proved the entire Assaf case was a joke - Assaf was a CIA asset so the CIA was using an FBI asset with NCIS chasing them both. What. A. Waste.

Putting the little snowman thumb drive into his computer, Deeks started his Kensi note.

February 14, 2014

[img A246]

Hey Kens,

Happy Valentine's Day. This was not how I figured today would be, even after you left. I'm eating tuna alone at 2:30AM. I'm hoping you're having a better day. Mine's leaning pathetic.

Sorry I missed yesterday and the day before. We had another run in with Jonas Ambrose on the 12th or really the 13th. Nobody would let me arrest him, which was almost as disappointing as sitting watching a terrorist who wound up being a CIA asset working with an FBI snitch. I'm really thinking of opening a company that just tracks how many investigations are running into other investigations. NCIS and LAPD with Daniel Zuna, CIA and NCIS with LAPD making a guest appearance for Isaak Sidorov, FBI and NCIS with Jonas Ambrose as Justice's evil twin.

Then I spent yesterday with a friend in the hospital. In the picture attached, you recognize that handsome devil as Dale Sully circa Summer of 2010. The woman is Sully's ex-wife, Ana Maria Benetiz-Sully. She's better known as Det. Angela Sanchez. Angela and I never were partners, we just were always the other's spouse or ex. Angela had a week that makes my time in the garage look like a vacation so I hung out with her today. Amazing what we can survive for the people we love. Angela has a husband and two great kids and they kept her alive.

I wasn't lying that day. I got through because of you. I'm working on what happened but you're still the reason I got through.

I'm also working on regrets. I keep saying it but I'm sorry about last summer. I made a terrible mistake pushing you away. I regret that every day when I walk in and see your empty desk. I regret that every time something great happens or something tough happens and I want to call you. You realize I'm not shutting up once you get back. There are so many things I need to tell you. I flipped Nell out today. Remind me to tell you how.

I promised we'd go to dinner with Angela and her family when you get back. You'll like them. I think we could be them if we figure things out. And I will kill a hand sanitizer for you, just so you know. I'll explain that to you as well.

I'm guessing Granger is back by now. Good luck with that. Nell wouldn't let me send some movies to you - season one of "Homeland" and the Bourne movies, you know the ones where the CIA guys are awful. I told Nell you could have a marathon with Sabatino in your downtime. She said no.

I put your Valentine's Day candy under your Christmas tree. Now we have another holiday to make up. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, Valentine's Day and of course America's favorite national holiday, my birthday.

I need some sleep. Hetty sounded like she's doing something in Monaco this summer. I'm thinking if she's out of the county, I could take my motorcycle money and show her just what trouble I can get myself in. Saw a commercial the other day during the news about jet-packing over the water in San Diego. That could be fun.

Be safe, come home,  
Soon to be extreme sports vacation enthusiast Deeks

x-x-x

**Postscript**

The surprise rains ruined her afternoon on the water. With just three days left to her month in Monaco, her time on the Lady H was precious and running from the dock to the new clubhouse was not part of her plans. Then again, seeing Nikolay Mirov, Putin's chief European intelligence operative, sitting with Rudolf Nurme from Estonia's scientific community was worth the rain drops.

Going online, she found the e-mail she waited nearly two weeks to see:

Sent July 29, 2014 at 9:55PM PDT  
TO: henrietta.lange at ncis . navy . mil  
FM: deeks8523 at lapd . lacity . org  
Subject: Home safe

Hey Hetty,

Home safe and sound. What an exciting month of travel. I'm sure the south of France is all that and a bag of chips but there is a lot of fun to be had Stateside. Decided that jumping and swinging and sledding and gambling were all quite fun but I missed the water so I found some. You'll see new video of my final summer adventures and one little surprise at the end.

As always, I'm at Deekscursion dot tumblr dot com and the password is what paid for this all.

Hetty, I can honestly tell you - this is the best summer vacation I ever had. I owe a lot of it to you. Yes, this was a childish rebellion paid for by my lost toy. But after my time in Sidorov's garage, the tough summer, the lonely winter - I think I earned my Deeksfiance, Deekssent or my moments of nonconforMarty (defiance, dissent or nonconformity for those not living in MartyWorld).

See you back the office in about two weeks. I'll be the tan one with the self-satisfied smile waiting to have the riot act read to him. Just so you know, my defense will be my long standing one with Lt. Bates - it is better to say I'm sorry than may I.

Marty Deeks.

Back to Deeks's website - she typed in the password and saw three new links: "Descent", "Ascent" and "+1".

The "Descent" link led to a page with a video and some photos. The photos were of Deeks standing outside a place called Dive Valhalla, Deeks in a wet suit, Deeks going into some water. Hetty was familiar with Dive Valhalla, a former nuclear ICBM Silo flooded with nearly two million gallons of water. The video showed Deeks getting in the water and starting his dive with Bruce Springsteen's "I'm Going Down" providing the soundtrack. The video turned murky in the water but certain markers caught Hetty's eye, including being more than 100 feet down, passing several signs about nuclear workplace safety and finally the brass dedication plaque on the launch pad that was older than Deeks.

Deeks made his way up top, smiling for the final ten feet or so. This was the first time Hetty noticed Deeks was just a little nervous on his summer rebellion tour. He showed the digital readout for his dive - down 115 feet with no signs of decompression sickness. Well done Mr. Deeks, Hetty thought.

The "Ascent" link had a photo of Deeks standing by a sign for the Mission Beach Wind and Surf Sports in San Diego. There were two videos, one with Deeks kite boarding. Split screens provided video of Deeks from cameras in the kite, on the board and on the beach. It was how she'd always think of him in his free time - on the water, being lifted sometimes ten feet by the kite, moving, yelling and smiling. The second video showed Deeks donning a jet-pack on a fishing boat. There were a few crash landings before he got the hang of it but he was flying over the Pacific with the San Diego shoreline in the background, hooting and hollering as he flew by.

When Hetty clicked on the '+1' link there was a page of other links: Astoria, OR; Park City UT; Moab; Vegas; Abilene; San Diego.

The Astoria link had a video. "You ready Kens," Deeks asked with a black screen. When the camera came on, Kensi Blye was wearing a parachute, a helmet and a smile. "See you on the beach!" she yelled as she jumped out of the plane. Deeks was seconds behind her, his camera on his helmet. While his free fall was fairly direct, Kensi did flips, even grabbed his hand and yelled "YES!" When they landed, Kensi unhooked her parachute and nearly knocked him over when he landed. "We are so doing that again!"

The Park City link had Kensi doing the skeleton on the same track where Deeks tried the luge. She crossed the finish line announcing "I feel the need for speed!" The two then rode a bob-sled with a spectacular crash in the last turn that had them hitting the finish line with the bobsled on its side and Deeks joking about Kensi's driving skills.

The Moab video used the same music as Deeks's video as Kensi swung off the Corona Arch. They even did a couple of swings as a pair. The video ended with the two of them sitting at a camp fire with a tent behind them, Deeks with a beer, Kensi toasting her own s'mores.

The Vegas link was a group of photos: Kensi in the gondola, Kensi and Deeks in the gondola together, Kensi flashing a big bucket of quarters next to a slot machine that read "WINNER" on a video screen. Kensi in a short black dress Hetty recognized as from the Ralph Lauren window in town. She was with Deeks backstage at "Rock of Ages". There was also a photo of her in the Venetian lobby with a dress shop in the background - smiling, showing off her dress.

The Abilene video was Kensi doing the missile silo dive with Deeks. San Diego just photos of Kensi at the spa at the Grand Del Mar - a rose pedal pedicure, a massage with another person Hetty figured was Deeks and a steamed up photo in the sauna. There were photos of her in a yoga class. The final two photos were tagged as 'home' - one looked like Leo Carrillo Park. Deeks was crouching in a wet suit with an arm slung over Kensi's shoulder while she was laughing, book in her lap and eating ice cream while sitting on a beach chair. Both were tan, rested, happy and seemingly carefree. The second photo was of Deeks, Kensi and a family she didn't recognize at a casual restaurant. A man and woman, both around Deeks's age, and two pre-teen boys - everyone smiling and having fun.

One last graphic appeared:

Deep Dive in Abilene: $1,200.00  
Kite board/Jetpack Rentals in San Diego: $500.00  
Farewell Dinner with the Martinez family - $112.50  
Having Kensi along for all the fun: Priceless.

P.S. Hetty, I forgot to tell you, I have a new car - a Toyota Highlander. It's a hybrid - I'm doing my part for the planet. I'll be sure to send Eric the VIN number when I'm back in the office so I can be tracked through GPS. I somehow forgot to do that before we left on the trip. Except for the Venetian, the whole trip was visiting B&B's and paying with cash only. America's a great country - you can get lost if you decide to. Good to know.

-MD

Hetty shook her head. She'd enjoy hearing their explanations for why they thought they'd get away with this. And then she'd make them pay. But first, she was going to watch them swing from the Corona Arch again. That looked like so much fun…..

-30-

Thank you all as always for the kind feedback and the support. It is wonderful to read and every piece of feedback is cherished.

Hope to be back soon.  
Tess  
March 2, 2014


End file.
